


The Sharp Edge of Dreams

by SGCbearcub



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-13
Updated: 2006-04-13
Packaged: 2019-05-17 08:12:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 57,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14828628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SGCbearcub/pseuds/SGCbearcub
Summary: Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire. Ten years after she beat the Labyrinth, Sarah must defend Jareth's right to the Goblin Throne.





	1. Chapter 1

Jareth was a fool.

Jiann swept away from the castle of the High King in a flurry of feathers and magic. Perhaps it was not so strange, she thought, as she winged toward the setting sun. The children of the Tuatha de Danann were ever fools when it came to the mortal realm. Witness her own foolishness with his father.

There was little that was not Sidhe about her son. If his magic manifested in strange ways, and his beauty was not quite all that was to be expected, his heart was pure, and he had broken it with typical De Danann thoroughness. Jiann knew she was to blame. If she had not been of high birth, the mismatched eyes that shouted his mortal heritage would never have mattered. She had thought she could protect him.

She could not be his Champion.

His goblins had offered. Ignoring the watching court, Jareth had slouched back into his chair and smirked at the bumbling idiots as they pushed and stumbled their way to the High King and thrust out their ridiculous chests as they declared they would fight for their King. The astonishment in her father's eyes had been plain, and if they had not just humiliated her son before the court of his birth, she could have wept for the heart that had won such loyalty from creatures who generally showed none.

Not that many in the court cared to see the truth.

Jareth was part-blood in a court that had not interbred with mortals for centuries. He ruled a kingdom of the unwanted, yet those unwanted who wanted nothing to do with the High Court had braved its ballrooms and scorn for his sake. He lacked all but the simplest of Sidhe glamour, yet his music cried with magic and his crystal dreams were those most dangerous and painful of illusions. The truths of the hidden heart.

When her father had more or less exiled Jareth to the Goblin Kingdom, she had agreed. His fascination with the mortal realm had become unwise, and the rumors had undermined his already unsteady position in the court. That he had never cared for the ballrooms of the Seelie Court made it worse. By giving him kingship over the goblins, her father had hoped to prove his worth to the others. Jiann had never expected it to become a living tomb.

Her son should have been a bard. Yet his human heritage had betrayed him in this as well. The mortal realm had moved beyond the Sidhe. They no longer looked to Danann's children for wisdom, and even had they been willing to hear the truth in his music, the cold iron of their world would have eventually killed him. He was as out of time as the child that had fascinated him. Perhaps the passion that had singed him, would now be his salvation.

Jiann was not comfortable trusting a crystal dream sent to a child barely on the cusp of womanhood. Yet that had been the problem, had it not? Old enough to see the truth in the crystal, not old enough to understand there had been a third option. And Jareth, her poor son, too terrified to tell her. Too easy to hide behind the rejection of the child, to tell himself she was still not old enough to understand. To wary to risk the rejection of the woman grown.

She would be grown and dead, scattered like the autumn leaves if he hesitated much longer. These mortals led such mayfly lives. He had known the child would reject him. That had been her part to play after all. Yet in the midst of heartache and unexpected longings, her son had found a way to open a door to the future. A hint to her that maybe he was not what he seemed, and an offer that was staggering in its foolishness. Her father had been as impressed and he had been appalled. Whatever Jareth's original intentions, that daring, careless trickery might yet be his salvation.

Jiann challenged the sky with the powerful strokes of her wings. She would observe, then she would decide. If necessary, she would awaken the magic sleeping in the woman's body, an unknown legacy of her time in the Labyrinth. A gift her son had not had the courage to kindle. Jiann set her feathers and spiraled out of the sky, diving toward an endless sea of lights those Above called New York.

Sarah Williams would stand as Champion to the Goblin King.

Even if Jiann had to drag her screaming into Underground to do it.


	2. Chapter 2

"Sarah?"

She barely heard the radio, concentrating on the problem before her.

There was something wrong with this fire.

Heat hammered at her body through the heavy material of her protective suit. Water rained down onto her helmet as she stepped through the oily sludge of charcoal and water swirling dangerously around her feet. The warehouse corridor stretched into the darkness, seemingly endless. Except she knew better. She didn't have to find the end.

She needed to find the door.

"Sarah?" her Captain's voice was scratchy on the radio.

She felt herself shaking her head as malevolence seemed to close in on all sides. The fire was breathing around her, growling hatred, and that wasn't what she was used to.

"There's something wrong, Cap."

There was a distinct pause and she could almost feel the roll in the Captain's eyes.

"Could you be more specific?" she heard finally.

"I'm not sure. It's...I've found the door,"she said. Behind her, Dobbs and Roberts pulled the hose to give her room to maneuver. The room beyond was groaning, an office of some sort and she stared in horror at the walls as they seemed to warp. Too hot. It was too hot, and the flames seemed...angry.

She hesitated warily. She had never hated fire. Had never felt that it hated her back. Even when she killed it, it was just another test. Another fact of life. But normally...

Instinct sent her flying back to the door, pushing her teammates before her roughly. Just in time, they landed facedown in the sludge as the room behind them exploded. The hose team behind them hit the walls with a high preassured stream of water as Dobbs rolled over painfully. In the blackness, she couldn't see his face, but his voice was irritated and a bit uneasy when he keyed the mike.

"You're damn spooky, Williams. You know that?"

"It's too hot,"she told him.

"No shit,"Roberts agreed. "Where to now?"

Left or right? Sarah closed her eyes as she tried to think. The janitor had been screaming that he had left his daughter in the office. The child had not been there. Not under the desk, not unconscious on the floor, not huddled behind the door. Think, Williams. Think. Where would a six year old go to hide from the monster?

She keyed her radio."Captain? Ask the janitor if there's a supply closet on this floor."

"End of the hall. And Williams? You have five minutes. Stevens discovered cannisters of an unknown chemical in the basement. We're running in the foam."

Sarah could hear Dobbs cursing behind her. Foam. Son-of-a-bitch. Whatever it was was reacting with the water and it wasn't on the damn manifest.

"Copy five minutes, Captain."

They were almost at the end when they felt the explosions. The vibrations rolled the floor beneath their feet and Sarah threw herself forward with a scream as the hallway tore itself in two. Metal shrieked and black smoke belched from the lower floors, cutting her off from her team. She could hear Dobbs yelling into the mike and she fumbled for the radio, stunned that she was still alive.

"Get out. I'll find the girl."

"Jesus Williams, you have more lives than a friggin cat,"Roberts told her.

"Back door in five, guys."

The water briefly slammed into her body, pushing her down the hallway, but cutting some of the smoke and knocking down the weak flames creeping along the edges of the torn floor. She didn't bother trying to look into the crevice. She already knew it was a long way down. Then the water was gone and she had a child to find. Dragging herself upright, she resettled her tank and wiped at her mask. The closet. Where the hell was the closet?

Crawling on her hands and knees, she felt her hands begin to burn with the heat radiating from the floor. If she didn't find the girl soon, it wouldn't matter. Finally, the third door on her left revealed something soft. Toilet paper. Rolls and rolls of toilet paper. As her hands landed on a curled up body, she left out a sigh of relief that almost pushed away the thought of what would have happened once all that paper ignited. Don't think about it, Williams. Just go.

There was no time to see if the girl was breathing. Nothing Sarah could do in the next five minutes would change reality. It wasn't fair, she wanted to scream. And it wasn't. Not for a six year old girl and not for a twenty-five year old firefighter.

But that's the way it is, she told herself grimly.

She crawled toward the end of the haul, dragging her precious burden as carefully as possible. She kept the girl's face as low as possible without smothering her, then built a picture in her mind of the back wall. No fire escape, but there was a window.

"I'm at the back window with the girl, Captain. Coming through hot," she panted.

"We can't get the bucket to you, Williams. We need another five and we'll have the drop inflated. Can you hang on?"

The floor rumbled and twisted ominously beneath her. She held her breath long enough to hold her face mask over the girl's face, then replaced it, blinking stinging eyes.

Jump.

She ignored the thought and focused on the feel of the fire beneath her. It rumbled, and reached for her.

"Negative, Captain. Two minutes tops."

She gasped as the floor seemed to drop an inch and she held the facemask to the girl's face again. They weren't going to make it. Not like this.

Jump.

The image of the drop mat unfurled in her mind. It was only half inflated and they were going to land hard if that fear was true. But maybe it would be enough. The floor groaned and she heard the high pitched squeal of metal as it began to pull itself apart. She almost turned her head, but didn't bother. She wouldn't see it until it was too late anyway. They were out of time.

The window exploded outward as she slammed the bottom of her tank into the glass. Then she dropped the rig and gathered the girl into her arms as the rush of air sucked the fire toward her. The walls and floor began to vibrate and she had only one second to consider that this just might be the end of the story for Sarah Williams before she threw herself through the window, sheltering the child by twisting to take the broken edges of the glass against her back. She didn't question the instinct that had her kick off the window frame, pushing herself further from the building and slightly to the left. She could feel a tug, and as she fell into daylight, watched with amazement as the fire boiled toward her, long tendrils of flame coiling along the walls and ceiling as the hallway became a tunnel of flame that hissed and screamed with a thousand angry voices. Then she was falling through water, the bucket crew knocking back the flames below her.

Amazingly, she felt perfectly safe.

Perfectly calm.

In her mind's eye, the drop mat continued to inflate, the thickest part somehow directly beneath her falling body. She couldn't see it, but somehow she knew it was there. Almost, almost it felt like flying. She wasn't afraid, no more than she had been once long ago, when she had leapt from a high place, expecting to fall. Somehow, she knew she was safe. But she was right about the landing.

It hurt.


	3. Chapter 3

"Perhaps, Sarah Williams, leaping out of windows is best left to those with wings."

Sarah frowned, the almost familiar tones pulling her from a hazy mix of memory and nightmare. She remembered just in time not to drag in too deep a breath. In spite of that, a deep wracking cough tried to turn her ribcage inside out. There was a whisper of movement, then the edge of a glass was held to her lips and something wonderfully cool slid down her throat. It tasted of leaves and sunlight, and for a moment she wondered if she was still dreaming.

A hand touched her forehead and an almost familiar scent teased her memory. A part of her - a part she refused to acknowledge upon waking-longed to curl into that touch and let it hold her. Still half asleep and reacting to the sense of lilting amusement in the voice rather than the voice itself, she turned her face into the hand without thinking.

"Jareth?' she whispered.

There was a momentary silence, then a soft exhale,"Ah...I had wondered."

Sarah froze as she heard the voice clearly for the first time, and then flushed with embarrassment. A woman. The speaker was a woman. Probably a nurse or a doctor. She jerked her face away with a sharp movement, momentarily distracted by the general feeling of good health and the absence of the expected cough. Then, in spite of her humiliating display of her lack of good judgment she was excruciatingly grateful he had not been there to witness that pathetic display. She wasn't sure which would hurt more.

Amused indifference or triumphant scorn.

Ten years after a hollow victory and his mocking smile still haunted her.

Sarah pulled herself into a sitting position and studied her visitor intently. She seemed hardly older than Sarah herself, and glowed with a subtle silver glow composed of the same stardust that shimmered in her pale blue eyes. Ebony hair coiled and shifted about her shoulders with a wild abandon that seemed almost alive and Sarah shuddered as the woman's sheer physical beauty tugged at her senses.

Great, she thought with annoyance. Another one.

Still, for all the hints and teasing, her allure felt less real than one of Jareth's illusions. Sarah remembered the feel of his arms around her, the slight dusting of fairy glitter along his cheekbones, and the way his eyes had seemed to see into her very soul and promise...everything. Jareth might have been a bastard, but this woman was a rank amateur next to him.

She supposed she should feel grateful.

After ten years of erotic dreams that would shock a sybarite, she didn't find it all that difficult to shove the woman's physical appeal off to one side of her brain. She met the fairy woman's eyes squarely and realized she was being regarded with a slightly puzzled air.

"Not what you expected?" Sarah asked dryly.

One of the woman's eyebrows rose in a gesture that was achingly familiar. Instead of answering, the woman's gaze drifted around the room, settling finally on the firefighter teddy bear sitting on the bedside dresser, complete with yellow jacket and red helmet. The puzzled expression deepened as she considered the stuffed toy contemplatively.

"You battle the element of fire? This is your chosen task in life?" she asked finally.

Sarah frowned,"I'm a firefighter, yes."

The woman tilted her head and eyed Sarah speculatively. "It does not seem a task for a dreamer."

Resentment at the imagined distain in those words put frost into her voice,"Dreams are pointless if you can't back them up with action. "

The woman seemed surprised by her response, "Do not be offended child. There was no insult intended. Dreamers are much valued by the children of Danann. Especially dreamers of strength." She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully."The dreams of strong dreamers have been known to change both our worlds."

From the sudden sharpening of the woman's expression, Sarah had not managed to hide the flicker of distaste that rose in response to that statement. Luckily the woman did not demand an explanation. Sarah had no desire to revisit her personal opinion on the dreamers who had created the Labyrinth. The Victorian bastards could rot in hell as far as she was concerned.

It had not occurred to her to demand an explanation for the woman's presence. Ten years of experience with various members of the Underworld-limited though that contact had been-had taught her that direct questions rarely resulted in answers. However, she was getting impatient for the woman to get to the point and was almost ready to start pushing her in the general direction when a soft tap at her door had both their heads turning. The door crept open.

"Sarah?" Dobbs whispered quietly.

He grinned when he noticed her sitting up and pushed open the door. He took three strides toward her then caught sight of the fairy woman. He stumbled slightly, his expression dazed and Sarah sighed as he came to an ungraceful halt. His hand, which had been holding a bowl of ice cream started to sink to his side. The woman smiled, as if gently amused, and rescued the bowl. Dobbs just stared at her in wonder as she placed it carefully next to the teddy bear.

"Stop that,"Sarah hissed, growing alarmed at the vacant glaze creeping across her friend's face.

"Stop what?" the woman asked, laughter bubbling in her voice.

"He's happily married and he damn well better stay that way," Sarah said angrily. "Let him go."

Seemingly oblivious to Sarah's rising fury, the woman reached out and gently stroked the firefighter's careworn face. Dobbs continued to stare, wonder in his eyes.

"Fret not child, he sees only a part of a dream."

Sarah threw herself out of the bed and thrust herself between Dobbs and her unwelcome visitor.

"A dream he can't have," Sarah snapped. Behind her, Dobbs stood silent and Sarah felt a cold clench of fear twist in her gut." Stop it, before it's too late."

"Too late for what?" the woman asked, her voice sounding genuinely confused.

Sarah stared at her, ten years of anger igniting at the sheer unfairness of a species that could do so much harm and not even mean it. At the pointlessness of a loss she wasn't sure the inhuman beauty before her could comprehend. Had Jareth even understood what he had done to her? Had he been as empty and as clueless about the damage he was doing?

"I understand that it's all just a game to you," Sarah said," but he didn't do anything. He didn't call you. He didn't ask to be your entertainment. Maybe you don't care that he'll spend the rest of his life with a cold empty space inside that nothing can ever fill, but I'll be damned if I'll let you ruin his life or his marriage for a bloody illusion. Let.Him.Go."

Sarah was vaguely surprised at the cold hatred in her own voice and the woman seemed shocked speechless. She looked past Sarah's shoulder and Sarah felt Dobbs turn and leave the room. All she could do was pray whatever spell the woman had cast would leave him unharmed. To be honest, she was expecting the woman to erupt in a blaze of fury. Jareth had not reacted well to her defiance all those years ago, and she truly had been a child.

"Contrary to the stories," the woman said coldly," the Sidhe are not in the habit of ruining the lives of mortals. Your friend is unharmed. It is simply a reaction to the glamour."

"Illusion and false promises," Sarah replied bitterly.

The woman shrugged," It is harmless. The effect will wear off shortly and he will remember nothing."

Sarah studied the woman with a sense of despair," Don't you even realize the harm you do?"

The woman threw up her hands with an explosive expression of frustration," Harm? What harm?"

The abrupt understanding that Jareth's own eyes would have been just as blank shook her and Sarah felt the bitter reality of just how revealing and how empty any confrontation with Jareth would have been. Worse, beneath the anger, some hope she had not managed to kill had managed to survive. She ...did not want to contemplate what it would have felt like to have that die with him looking at her with those mismatched eyes.

She did, it appeared, have some pride.

Hoggle and the others had never understood why she was angry, and anyone from Above would have had her medicated. She had never had the chance to tell Jareth what he had done to her and she had spent more nights that she could remember imagining his regret, or his defense, or even just an apology. Now, faced with this Sidhe woman's complete lack of comprehension, she reached for the anger that had sustained her all these years, and felt only emptiness.

It would seem she was never destined to get anything she wanted when it came to Jareth.

Maybe if she told this woman the truth, she would finally be able to let it go. Find closure, or whatever the hell she was supposed to call this obsession. She had eventually figured it out, after it was over. The Labyrinth had been designed to make her fight herself; overcome her own weaknesses and fears. She had been fighting herself, not Jareth

Until they danced.

"He was too perfect and I was too young to know it wasn't real."

Even now, she could still hear the longing in her voice.

Lies. Worse than lies.

For two years, she had actually thought she had won. She had felt empowered. After all, if she could beat the Labyrinth, she could beat anything. She had felt like the hero of a fairy tale and when the boys had started to try and woo her with pretty lies and fumbling hands, they had been easy to reject, and in all honesty, she had found some strength in that. She could see their manipulations and empty promises so easily. She had even found their blatant attempts to get into her pants mildly amusing.

As Lotharios went, they ran a distant second best to the Goblin King.

It wasn't until her senior year that she realized that was the point.

"I wrote a short story based on my time in the Labyrinth," Sarah said finally, as the woman looked at her with an odd expression on her face.

Even now she sometimes wondered what might have happened if she had not written that story. If her teacher had not had an interest in the roles of women in fictional literature. She probably would have finished a degree in the Dramatic Arts. She doubted she would have made it as a professional actress, but she might have gotten involved in the theatre. She would have waited until she found a man who respected her, married him and had 2.5 children content in the knowledge that Sarah Williams had grown up at last and left her toys and costumes behind her.

The perfect Victorian wife, a hundred years after the fact.

Poor spoiled Sarah, hovering on the brink of womanhood and terrified of the responsibilities of adulthood. Torn between the demimonde of her absent, actress mother and the stresses of motherhood as personified by fretful, screaming Toby. Jareth had posed the visible Challenge. Which would she choose? The role of the Good Wife, or the role of the Harlot.

Her psychiatrist had thought Jareth represented her fears of her emerging sexuality.

She thought it a bit more complicated, but then, she knew the Labyrinth was real. Jareth was the Villain. The seducer. An aristocratic symbol of sex, drugs, and rock n' roll that she had to reject in order to win the game. In order to win back Toby and claim the title of Good Woman. She could even appreciate the symbolism and the Machiavellian logic of the concept.

After all, if a fallen angel couldn't tempt her, who could?

The unknown woman had been quiet while Sarah was lost in her thoughts. Now, she startled her by speaking.

"Do you hate him, Sarah?" she asked quietly. "For taking your brother?"

Sarah stared at her with blank incomprehension. Hate?

"No."

From the puzzled look she got, that was not the answer the woman expected. She continued to press the issue.

"Resent, then. For his role in the Labyrinth. Sarah, you must understand that the Labyrinth was shaped by mortal dreams and nightmares. You called it forth because of a story. It took the shape it was given. Jareth didn't have a choice."

"I know that." Sarah said quietly.

An expression of frustration crossed the woman's face," Then I don't understand. Where is the harm?"

"He offered me a perfect dream," Sarah said finally. "Ten years later and I still wake up aching that it's not real. That it can never be real. And no matter how hard I try, nothing measures up. I can't forget and that's what I can't forgive. Jareth didn't seduce my body, he stole my dreams."

The woman's eyes widened and suddenly she jerked her head to stare at the teddy bear,

"So now you dance with fire," she breathed.

Sarah shrugged." The fire is real. The danger is real. The children I save are real." She smiled bitterly. "It's not enough, but it's real."

Part of her still looked for Jareth, hoping she had finally grown up enough for him to love.

There were days her own mind sickened her.

The fairy woman was beginning to look agitated and Sarah was startled to feel the attraction of the glamour strengthen. It wasn't enough to spin her mind into circles like Dobb's and she could only assume this woman was less powerful than Jareth. Either that or she had some protection because she was female. Not for the first time, she wondered how many women had let themselves be seduced by the Goblin King.

He had warned her he could be cruel.

She understood his initial contempt for a spoiled child who would wish away her brother. But during that dance he had looked into her eyes and lied to her. Made her believe that he saw someone beautiful, and courageous, and someone worthy of respect. Without even knowing why she was looking, she had found him, and he hadn't laughed at her. Instead, he let her find him. He danced with her. He lied with his eyes and his body and made her believe in him. Made her believe in herself and it had meant nothing. Worse than nothing, because to lie so convincingly, he must have had no respect for her at all.

She had been worse than blind.

She had been a fool.

Stardust shimmered and Sarah found the woman regarding her solemnly.

"What if I could offer revenge?" the woman asked finally.


	4. Chapter 4

Jiann watched Sarah with a mixture of hope and fear. It was so dangerous what she was doing. If she was wrong, she could save her son's life only to destroy his soul. Sarah felt with all the passion of her dreamer's heart and Jiann wanted to quail before the raw pain and fury she could sense.

Jareth had admitted to the dance. He had even described the dream. Crystal dreams were subject to interpretation, but Jiann and her father had discussed this one at length. Jareth had just watched them as they tore apart Sarah's imagery and contributed nothing. At the time she had thought he found it painful, but perhaps she had missed something. Jareth had decided he wanted the boy.

Had he gone too far trying to stop the sister?

Sarah was not the first mortal to dream of ballrooms and princes and the regard of the court. Popularity. Admiration. All things dreamed of by a lonely girl. Perhaps Jareth had made a mistake. Instead of offering her the crown of the princess, he should have offered the role of hero. In the end, the result was the same. Regard. Adulation.

The love of the masses.

"A Trial is being convened to choose a Champion to defend Jareth's right to the Goblin Throne. If the Champion loses, Jareth may be replaced as Goblin King."

Sarah blinked and Jiann felt a moment's impatience. Had the girl learned nothing of the Sidhe over the years?

"Whatever your opinion of Jareth, he is a good King for this realm. He holds no animosity toward the world Above, and I assure you, that is a good thing. The Labyrinth has its own power, and of all the Kingdoms, it reaches most deeply into the mortal realm. That makes it both dangerous and unpredictable. Additionally, it is a haven for many creatures who are not generally happy or accepted in the rest of Underground. Jareth is more tolerant than many Sidhe would be. Your friends may find their world a treacherous place should he lose the coming Challenge."

"Tolerant," Sarah said sceptically."You have as strange a definition of tolerance as Jareth did of generous."

Jiann raised an eyebrow."Had it occurred to you that your friend Hoggle committed treason to help you? Jareth could have had him beheaded. Instead, I believe you were given leave to continue your friendship. I would call that tolerant. And generous."

Sarah scowled,"The orders he gave were wrong and immoral."

Jiann shrugged,"They were still within his right to give."

The child restrained herself from arguing, then narrowed her eyes."Are my friends really in danger?"

Jiann felt herself relax slightly."Yes,"she answered honestly.

The girl chewed on her lip thoughtfully, then met Jiann's eyes with a penetrating clarity Jiann did not expect. Whether she was still the dreamer was anybody's guess, but she had clearly learned to mistrust the Sidhe.

"Why me?" Sarah asked finally."And why would Jareth even allow it?"

Jiann forced herself to shrug casually."Jareth has no say in the matter. As for why you..." Jiann frowned as she considered what to reveal."The politics of our world are complicated. Suffice to say that all of those who will Offer will have motives of their own. Yours are relatively uncomplicated and you owe nothing to the other Kingdoms, thus will not obligate Jareth in any manner that might prove politically...unwise."

"How obligated?"Sarah asked suspiciously.

Jiann picked her words carefully."If victorious, Jareth will owe a great debt to the Champion. In fact, even should the Champion lose, he will be indebted simply by virtue of the fact the Champion Offered. That will place the Champion is a position of great power over Jareth."

"I don't want power over Jareth." Sarah denied instantly.

"Do you not?" Jiann asked quietly.

When the girl flushed, Jiann raised her hands palms up,"Then you will fight to save your friends. Is that not acceptable? Jareth will be indebted to the woman who beat him in his own labyrinth. That will vex him to no end. He was most determined to keep your brother."

"So he could turn him into a goblin?" Sarah asked resentfully.

Jiann laughed before she could stop herself,"Child, that was your addition to the tale. Jareth was being pressured to marry and produce an heir. The alliance proposed was not one he favored. Your wish must have seemed like a gift once he got over being annoyed with the goblins and considered the possibilities."

"So he planned to what? Adopt Toby?" Sarah asked skeptically.

Jiann considered her next words carefully."And you would have been a princess."

Sarah's expression closed." That's not all I would have been."

Jiann hesitated. Then decided to trust what she knew of her son. "Perhaps. Eventually. But only if you had wished it child," she said firmly.

It was, perhaps, unfortunate, that the history of the Sidhe and the world Above was so fraught with mischief and misunderstanding. Sidhe held to the letter of their agreements, but there was no arguing that the loopholes were occasionally large enough to swallow a dragon. Mankind was often careless with his words, and the fact that the Sidhe they usually met were centuries older in experience and sophistication did not help. For a woman looking for hidden threats, Jareth's last offer, while honest, could have been interpreted ominously. Jiann herself had wondered for a moment, then soothed her doubts with knowledge of her son's character and the rules of magic.

A king was a slave to his people. Fear and love were to be expected. Yet, if she was not to be one of the ruled, she must rule instead. To be the equal of a king, a woman must become a queen. And if that king were also King of the Goblins, with magic to call, the magic binding the Labyrinth and its players had but one choice. The child before her had no idea of the extent to which she had been changed.

Sarah paused, then tilted her head thoughtfully." He wanted Toby that badly?"

Jiann chose not to answer that question, leery of saying the wrong thing. What could she say? It was true. Jareth would have given the girl anything she wished if she had given him the child. His final words had been lack of choices, not his original intent. While Jiann knew the girl herself had fascinated her son, it had been the baby he had wanted. To be honest, Jiann thought much of the girl's allure had been the novelty of her. The fact that she had surprised him. As for the woman...

Jiann did not know.

Sarah was a weapon of his own design that the Goblin King had yet to call to his hand.

Perhaps the Challenge would allow them to work through their obsessions and leave the past in the past. Jareth had not tried to contact the girl in all these years. Perhaps some of her allure was simple convenience. A fantasy to ward off the loneliness. Jiann was not blind to her son's unhappiness, and none of the Sidhe in the court had caught his eye. Jiann refused to dwell on the reason many of the ladies of the court avoided him, except for the occasional tryst. He was a prince of the Sidhe. She would help him put his Kingdom to rights and the girl in the past.

Then she would start making a list of the Sidhe women he might consent to wed.


	5. Chapter 5

Jareth allowed his gaze to drift over the girl in front of him and tried to recall her exact position in her family. The girl smiled slightly when his gaze paused on the swell of bosom peeking over the edge of her gown. He doubted she would have felt so victorious if she knew he had recognized the intricate pattern of silver thread worked into the collar. The girl's mother had worn that same gown forty years ago.

She had certainly been willing...although not to be wed.

The daughter was not experienced enough to prevent a slight wistfulness from entering her gaze whenever her eye fell on the laughing couples twirling about the dance floor. In particular, Lord Savron seemed to have captured her attention. Her eyes dropped when she noticed Jareth watching her cynically, then her smile settled itself firmly into place.

So...

The child was the sacrificial lamb, was she? Borrowed dress and borrowed jewels. With the memory of the mother, Jareth had finally placed her. She was Garrett's youngest granddaughter. Interesting that he was willing to connect his family to the Goblin Throne. Jareth considered the remote possibility that it was a ploy on the part of the mother. That lady had ever been keen to increase her standing and if anyone would have seen the implications of what Jareth was doing, she was in a position to do so.

Jareth considered it unlikely. Had the woman been angling for a hook into the Goblin Kingdom, she would not have chosen her youngest. The girl had her heart set on the Seelie Court, not the wilds of a near-bankrupt Provincial Kingdom. Had political maneuvering been the point, the mother would have chosen the girl's older sister. Although, it was possible the lady had been afraid the chit would not cooperate. Jareth had heard the sister preferred her books to the ballroom.

Still, it was unlikely.

Jareth suspected it was simply that the family fortune had stretched as far as it could comfortably go, and the Goblin King was an acceptable compromise. Jareth was not wealthy, as the court counted wealth. But his birth was higher than one would normally expect of anyone holding the Goblin Throne. Although his mother, his uncle, his aunt and two cousins stood before him, it was conceivable Jareth's children might someday preside over the High Court itself.

Not very likely... but conceivable.

He let his eyes roam the ballroom and took note of those who met his gaze and who did not. It would seem that public opinion was still undecided about the resolution of this Challenge. Few had stepped forward to Offer to stand as Champion, not when the force behind the Challenger was Lord Marag. However, Jareth's grandfather had made it clear that he was not pleased to have his choice for the Goblin Throne questioned, and that was making people cautious about openly siding with Marag. Those who had Offered were mostly unmarried younger sons who had little to lose and whose actions could be denied by their families.

Most had unmarried sisters.

Regardless of what the Court expected, he had no intention of marrying one of the girls to discharge a Champion debt. If necessary, he would see her settled here at Court, but he would wed where he pleased. Unfortunately, his intended had been playing remarkably hard to get over the past ten years. Although, perhaps not for much longer. If the look he had last seen on his mother's face was anything to go by, Sarah would soon find herself witness to the feeding frenzy that was High Court politics. Which went perfectly according to plan.

When she finally came for him, he wanted no doubt in her mind that he had chosen her over the others.

That had been part of her dream, after all.

He had expected the issue with Sarah to have been resolved long before the issue of how the Wild Magic was affecting the Goblin Kingdom to come to a point. Even given the ten mortal years of her reluctance, the changes in the Labyrinth should not have occurred so swiftly. Unfortunately, it would not be much longer before he could no longer hide what was happening, and Jareth could not afford the time away from the Kingdom this Challenge was taking. He could reorder time for mortals and Sidhe. Wild Magic allowed itself to be ordered for no one.

Jareth's hand curled into a fist unseen against his leg. The Desert of Despair had pushed itself to the very edge of the Labyrinth and these dancing fools expected him to wave his hand and push it back. Did they not understand the very magic that ran through their veins? The magic was done with being pushed. It cried to be used, ached for form, and lacking the attention of the Sidhe or the dreams of mortals, was forced to make due with errant nightmares. The Labyrinth would not be able to stand against it much longer.

If the Labyrinth fell, the rest of Underground would soon follow.

In spite of her potential, he would not have chosen to give Sarah that book. Her dreams were too strong and while her grip on the story had helped the Labyrinth hold against Despair in the years of her youth, it had been a risk. For all that the Labyrinth needed to stay the same to hold against the Desert, it needed to change if it was to survive. But the Labyrinth had its own rules and it had chosen to have the goblins send the story to her. Then the goblins had brought her Underground, and in the midst of everything else he had needed to do, he had fallen in love within the space of a single dance.

His mother's blood he supposed.

His own fault, no arguing that. He had sent the dream. He had called the magic. He just hadn't expected to become the object of her search or the definition of her heart's desire. He could have walked away from her, let the dream fade unfinished. But he had been seduced by the possibilities, and though she had been but a child, children grow up. What were a handful of mortal years to wait, when he had centuries and more? The moment he let the magic draw him into that dance, he had been lost.

What was done was done.

In truth, he had been tired of playing the parts cast by him for others. By his mother, his grandfather, and the Court. He had wanted what he had seen in her eyes and given the strength of her dreams, who was to say that was not what the Fates had intended? The Goblin Kingdom was a mix of mortal dreams and Sidhe magic. To rule the second, he would need to shape the first. In Sarah, he had seen a way to have everything he had ever wanted.

Too young, though.

Far too young.

After she had breached the gates of the Goblin City, he had known she would refuse him. He even knew the Words she would say. He had listened to her practice them often enough. Had she discovered yet, the gift he had given her? His grandfather had thought him careless beyond belief to bind the Labyrinth with his offer, but he had known the truth. She would need the magic, if she were to help him change the future.

The Labyrinth had always symbolized hope and second chances and its ties to both the Wild Magic and the mortal realm had allowed it to resist the Desert long after the last bastion of Sidhe magic had fallen. The Labyrinth would always be a Labyrinth, but lately he had felt it resist the Seelie bindings placed upon it, and recently it had started making its own choices about the tasks it placed before the dreamers.

Thankfully, it sent no more books.

As terrifying as the changes were, he had been intrigued as well. A slow feeling of awakening had begun to suffuse ancient stone and he had felt the slightest brush of another intelligence against his. Not quite awake, but Jareth was curious what might be in the process of birthing itself. For much of the last decade of goblin time, he had been aware of being watched, and he had wondered what it was learning. Even should she never forgive him, he would always owe her this.

His eyes drifted to the ornate clock in the center of the room. Another five minutes and the doors would close and the Trial would begin. A sudden disturbance at the main doors caught his attention. Only a century of hard learned experience allowed him to prevent a smile from crossing his face as he saw his mother enter with Sarah by her side. He took in the jeans and sweatshirt and wondered with amusement if his mother had literally had to drag the girl from her bed. From the mortified look on his mother's face, Jiann had been unable to persuade the girl to let her magic the clothes into something more presentable. No doubt Sarah was making some mortal point.

If he had time later, he would provoke her into explaining it to him.

He was halfway out of his chair when he saw the silver bracelet on Sarah's wrist. Shock and disbelief held him for a moment, then he met his mother's satisfied gaze and fury ripped through him. Almost, it obscured the pain. For one moment he wanted it to be true, so much that everything else was ashes to taste. Sarah would have no idea what she was agreeing to do, and his mother could ruin everything with this well meant gesture. Sarah was still angry about the Labyrinth. She would hate him for this.

If she lived.

With a careless disregard for the other dancers he dematerialized and slammed into existence a mere two feet from Sarah in a blast of cold air and feathers. Several dancers widened their eyes at this display of unexpected skill, but he ignored them.

"Get her out of here," he ordered his mother. She ignored him.

He turned to Sarah in desperation," Leave, Sarah. Before it's too late."

She snorted," You're repeating yourself."

He shook his head, "You don't understand. It's..."

He whirled to stare at the clock as it started to chime. On cue, the heavy oak doors slammed shut, the echoes reverberating through the room.

Jareth closed his eyes. "It's too late."

He reopened them to see her glaring at him. Gone was the fear and wary respect of the child. In a flash he understood that if his mother had not gone for her, he would have waited forever. Bitter anger was the only thing he saw in her eyes now. Loss became a gaping hole where his heart used to be and he wondered at the odd fact no one seemed to notice.

Or perhaps they just did not care.

"I hope you live to regret this decision, Sarah, " he managed finally, honestly.

His mother spun around at the flat sound of his voice, but he had no time to spare a pretty lie.

"The farce begins," he said brutally, then turned and walked away. Let his mother apologize for his manners. Let Sarah hate him. That way she could hate him from a distance when the magic passed her over in favor of someone else. He searched out the girl who had been hunting him and forced himself to return to her side.

He ignored the calculating gleam that appeared in her eyes and smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

Ungrateful wretch.

From the look on Jiann's face, his rudeness was not her imagination or a cultural misunderstanding. Too bad for him that she was over her girlhood crush. Where once his anger might have had her running from the room in a whirl of hurt feelings, at the moment all she felt was angry. The bloody bastard wanted to be Goblin King? He could damn well pay the price. And if the millstone of having a mortal offer to stand as his champion bruised his feelings before all these glittering, pretty people?

Cool.

She did not bother to look behind her. She knew the door was locked, and there was no point in protesting. She may not have known about that part of the ritual, but she had no intention of leaving, so what would she gain? She slid her fingers along the cold metal of the bracelet Jiann had slipped over her wrist. Too late to turn back now.

"All alone pretty Sarah?" a masculine voice asked from behind her.

She turned reflexively and froze as the sheer beauty of the man behind her stunned her into speechlessness. Son-of-a-gun. And she had thought Jareth was beautiful. Turquoise eyes shone with gentle amusement and male appreciation. For a moment, he seemed to look into her soul, his eyes shining with desire and respect. She suddenly found it hard to breath past the ache in her throat and for one moment she longed to do nothing more than throw herself in his arms. She shuddered as the man's smile widened and he held out his hand.

She blinked and stared at it for a long moment.

What was she waiting for? She ran her eyes over his perfect body, past long legs and narrow waist. Past broad shoulders and strong jaw. Then she met his eyes, and the longer she stared at him, the more she realized that something was missing. Something was...off. She narrowed her eyes. Why the hell was he so confident? Surely there should have been a hint of uncertainty. A shadow of worry that something he valued might slip through his fingers. As for the sensual promise in his wicked expression, what could he do to her body that Jareth had not already done in her dreams? She snorted and smiled at the man with amusement.

Amateur.

"Sarah?"

Jiann sounded slightly panicked and Sarah could only assume she was worried how Sarah might react to being abandoned-however temporarily.

"Yes?"

Jiann looked confused for a moment and Sarah wondered if she had missed a question. The woman glanced rapidly between Sarah and the man behind her, then spoke slowly,"It is time for dinner."

Sarah moved instantly in the direction indicated only to look back and see Jiann watching her with an odd look on her face. The next three hours were an education in Sidhe illusion. If she had ever doubted that the magic was real, she was rapidly disabused of the notion. The food seemed real enough however. Formal Sidhe dinners were apparently done buffet style with bite sized food and communal dishes. The better to avoid poison, one man told her wryly.

He had drifted off, carried by some unspoken rule of motion before she could ask if he was serious.

Most of the diners seemed to understand that she was a stranger to their ways and she found herself prodded along from courtier to courtier with smiles and slight laughter and she had absolutely no doubt she was making a fool of herself. No matter, it was instructional just to watch the faces. All of the Sidhe used glamour, she discovered. But their skills varied, and when the magic slipped, their expressions were open and easy to read. It was like they had never learned to lie with anything other than magic.

She soon realized that the older the Sidhe, the less likely they were to slip. She managed to startle three or four of the men, she was not quite sure how, but their expressions as they glanced between her and Jareth were confused, and in one case, worried. The women, especially the younger ones seemed split between desperation and brittle distain. It was the honest amusement of the older women as they talked about Jareth, however, that irritated her.

At first, she thought it was just her imagination.

Then she wondered if maybe it was a subtle form of insult, to discuss a past lover with someone they clearly thought was his current ...something. But if anything, they seemed to feel sorry for her, and there was clear disapproval directed at Jareth. Uneasily, she had cornered Jiann and asked if they were jealous, but the woman had just looked pained and shaken her head. Before Sarah could question her further, someone had called Jiann's name and she was gone.

Feeling as lost and out of her depth as she had during Jareth's crystal dream, Sarah found herself resenting her own lack of knowledge and her irritation and anger joined forces as they swelled. She finally confronted the woman babbling in front of her with a blunt statement that if she was planning to marry Jareth, she was welcome to him. Shocked into dropping her glamour, the woman stared at her, clearly appalled.

"Marry Jareth?" the woman's voice spiked with horror."Why ever would I do that?"

It was one of those worst case scenarios, when the highs and lows of the surrounding voices hit just the right note and cancelled each other out. Unintentionally, the woman had spoken at just the wrong moment and her voice rang across the ballroom. Heads jerked in their direction and without meaning to, Sarah spun around and located Jareth where he was dancing on the other side of the room. He stumbled awkwardly when the woman dancing with him flushed bright red and missed a step.

Sarah wasn't certain what she expected to see when in his attempt to avoid falling on the woman, he lifted his head and looked directly at Sarah. For one split second, pain and anger stared back at her, then he regained his balance and swept his partner back into the dance as if nothing had occurred. Sarah stood shocked, wanting to believe it was another lie, and knowing it was not. She turned her head back to stare at the humiliated woman in front of her.

"I didn't mean to do that,"the woman whispered."It's just...it's the Goblin Kingdom."

The woman looked at her as if that answer made sense. Sarah could only assume her own expression was blank, because she truly had no idea what had just happened. Of course it was the damn Goblin Kingdom. Jareth was the Goblin King. That was the point, right? He was the prize, the brass ring, the fact that he was unmarried was the whole reason these people were fighting over him.

Wasn't it?

The whispers and the innuendo came together in a completely different pattern. She might not understand the reason, but certain of Jiann's comments replayed themselves in memory. These people were playing politics with the High King, she realized. None of these people were here for Jareth. Hell, as far as she could tell, none of these men knew him and none of the women wanted to claim him. He was an amusing diversion, from what she could gather. His past lovers had no complaints about his skills, but there had been nothing in their eyes except vaguely pleasant memories.

No loss.

No regret for lost opportunities.

The Jareth she remembered had been a bastard, but he deserved better than this. Even Sarah could admit that his cruelty, as precisely aimed as it had been, was a warped sort of compliment. He had only pulled off the gloves when it had appeared that she would win, and Jiann had already explained that the lack of an heir had been causing Jareth a lot of difficulties ten years ago. Jiann had not been specific, but the shadows in her eyes had been enough to convince Sarah, that at the very least, it had not been a game for Jareth. Not by the end. And if she was being completely fair, she was the one who had wished Toby away.

A confused swirl of emotion assaulted her, none of it making sense.

Jareth had been honorable, in his own way. She might hate him for her own reasons, but they were personal, and she had earned that right. The pulse of anger directed at all these pretty people took her by surprise, but she did not question it. In some strange way, Jareth belonged to her. She was allowed to hate him. These others were not.

She was half prepared to dive into the crowd of dancers and demand Jareth tell her exactly what was going on, when she heard a gasp beside her. Looking into the eyes of the man next to her she was caught off guard by the angry resentment in his eyes. Another gasp and another set of eyes had her looking down at her hands with confusion.

The silver bracelet was glowing.

Before she could touch it, it tightened painfully and she felt a burning sensation start to creep up her arm. She shook it gently, then with more determination as the pain increased. Colors of all hues of the rainbow started to wreath themselves around her arm, curling upwards, following the pain. The fingers of her other hand began to tingle, then her toes. In an instant her body was a writhing mass of color, but she was in no shape to appreciate it.

I hope you live to regret this, Sarah.

Jareth's words rang in memory and she began to panic.

"Jareth!"

She didn't mean to call his name, but by that point, she did not care. She was in too much pain to do anything more than clutch at his jacket when he suddenly appeared and slid his arms around her.

"It will be fine, Sarah. You will take no harm."

His voice was low and seductive and she wished she could clutch at it the same way she held onto his arm. How odd, she realized, that she believed him. He had lied with his eyes, but he had never spoken an untruth and there were days she had wondered if the lie had simply been her own inexperience, seeing what was never there to begin with.

A small whimper escaped as the pain spiked. "It hurts,"she managed, unable to say more. She wanted to beg. Demand he do something to make it stop.

His beautiful mis-matched eyes darkened, then a silver ball was dancing before her eyes. She fell into it as the crystal shimmered as it twined about his hands. Like magic, she thought with faint amusement. Then the pain flared and she heard herself screaming as the crystal shattered.

Fairy dust took her into the darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

Jareth held on grimly as he struggled to keep her from blasting the ballroom to flames and ashes. It was mildly amusing to consider just how the curious would flee if they knew what was convulsing in his arms.

"Jareth? What is wrong?" his mother asked softly, genuine worry in her voice. Whether it was concern for Sarah or for the potential failure of her schemes would remain to be seen.

"Her element is fire, Mother. It was not meant to be awakened so rudely," he said shortly.

Her eyes widened." Not awakened? But then how did she resist..."her voice trailed off and he had no time to spare for her confusion.

Sarah's magic was snapping and growling at his own as he worked to contain her. He was mildly surprised it had not attacked him and could only hope it would not change its mind once she was awake enough to recognize him. He felt a slow trickle of healing magic begin to twine around his own and he was about to release some of Sarah's care to his mother when Sarah's magic snarled and sank its teeth into the tendrils of green and ripped Jiann loose. Shocked, he heard his mother cry out and had barely enough time to form a crystal of magic around Sarah before her magic leapt. The magic slammed into the barrier and fell back with a frustrated cry.

Jareth watched it warily as it sniffed at his magic, an elemental animal subject only to Sarah's deepest instincts. He shuddered as sensation drifted along his shoulders and across his chest and wondered how Sarah would react when she learned of the unintentional caress she gave him as her magic slid along his own. He could do nothing to stop her, but he doubted she would see it that way.

The others had finally come to their own conclusions and watched with reluctant fascination. Explosive awakenings in adults were almost unheard of, and the Binding of the Trial assured than none of them would escape if Jareth failed. His grandfather moved from where he had been seeing to his daughter and at first Jareth thought the interest in his eyes was for the situation. Then he realized his grandfather's eyes were fixed on Sarah's chest and he looked down to see the iridescent sheen of dragon scale coalescing out of the light surrounding her body. Metallic fire ran liquid across her chest and when the light faded, Jareth found himself staring at a winged dragon etched in amber across the breastplate of black armor.

Dragon armor.

Jareth sucked in a breath that was half horror, half wonder.

He had not expected this. A bardic symbol perhaps, or one for a protector of children. She had earned both. Instead, the eyes of the dragon gleamed in gold and the amber scales of her winged Mark shimmered in the light. Warrior-Mage. It would shock everyone here in the ballroom, that was for certain. But it could be deadly. A Champion who wore the Dragon was tested in ways far more dangerous than any other except the Mage, and she wore both. Jareth didn't know whether to laugh or scream in futile anger. Should she prove victorious, there would be none who would question her right to rule beside him, but the testing just might kill her.

Her magic had finally settled itself and the occasional snarl directed toward him contained more of disgruntled discontent than true threat. He cautiously relaxed his hold on Sarah's mind. It would be wise to move away from her before she completely awakened. He was not particularly sanguine about the possibility she might react defensively once she recognized him. Her newly awakened magic was likely to strike first, be surprised at the consequences later. Unfortunately, she had a Troll's grip on his shirt. Short of stripping to the waist, he was fairly trapped.

Her eyes opened and she gazed at him for a long moment. He waited for a reaction, for her to stiffen and push him away, or for her eyes to harden and her magic to lash out in reflex.

"Where are the goblins?" she asked unexpectedly.

He felt himself blink uncertainly. She had just been knocked unconscious, she was lying on a ballroom floor dressed in unfamiliar armor, she surely could feel the magic prowling through her blood, and she wanted to ask about goblins? He wondered if the pain had loosened her grip on sanity.

"Home," he answered shortly.

She just nodded, adding to his confusion. Before he could demand that she explain herself, a smooth voice cut over the babble of whispers growing in the background.

"Congratulations, Champion."

Jareth tried not to resent the way her eyes admired his grandfather. It was the glamour and he had mostly learned not to regret what he did not possess. He was forced to admit, however, that he would have paid almost any price to see that look of admiration and warmth directed at him, just once. Not even in the crystal of her dreams had he seen that.

He was mildly surprised when she spoke, and mentally added protection from glamour to the list of dragon scale attributes. He was also suspicious when she did not immediately pull away until he realized his magic was coiling with hers, soothing her and unintentionally holding her still. He eased his magic away from her, not surprised when hers tried to follow. She was Fire, he was Air. Fire was always drawn to Air. A perfect metaphor for what he had seen in her dream he thought now, and wondered for the first time if he had misinterpreted what he had been shown. Without her memory, all she would have had to fall back on was instinct. That which made her Fire was intrinsic to her personality and the way she had seen the goblin dancers suggested true insight into the denizens of the Labyrinth. Including Jareth himself.

The inevitable conclusion would not be banished.

He refused to think about it. Instead, he let her go, and watched as her face settled into an expressionless mask. Her body stiffened slightly and her fingers sprang apart when she discovered what was holding her to him. He waited for the inevitable questions and was surprised when there were none. Instead, she stood carefully and eyed his grandfather with a quiet suspicion that had the High King deepening his curious regard.

"The magic has Chosen, Sarah Williams. Do you accept?"

As much as he yearned for her to say no, his treacherous heart beat with an uncomfortable fervor when she nodded sharply. His grandfather nodded in return, then raised his voice to the crowd. "The Challenge has been accepted. Challengers stand forth."

Jareth came to his feet and wondered who would continue to defy the High King. He was unsurprised when the first two Challengers did not renew their Challenge. Kellan had clearly been influenced by Marag and had soon regretted his actions in the light of the High King's ire. Darius had seen an opportunity, but was not prepared to risk what was left of his fortune given the Dragon etched on Sarah's armor. Dragon warriors had a history of winning.

A whisper of silk and Marag's daughter stepped from the crowd.

"I stand fast. I Challenge," Leann said firmly.

The remaining Challengers stayed silent. If Sarah failed or forfeited, it would be theirs to decide if they wished to continue. How they would proceed would depend on the type of Challenge chosen by Leann. Observing the way they watched Sarah with all the focused interest of the vulture, Jareth felt his stomach turn and his glare held all the contempt he felt for their kind. Brothers of dishonor, all of them. One or two had the wit to flush, but the others were too busy mentally stripping his Kingdom to care.

If any of these got their hands on the Goblin Throne, the Labyrinth would fall. He had hoped there might be a smidge of honor buried in one of them, but clearly that hope had been in vain. Ambition would doom the Sidhe if his Champion fell. Even now, with the echoes of her pain still ringing from the walls, he could smell the avarice.

The High King tightened his lips, and Jareth wondered if he knew what was at stake. The look his grandfather had given Sarah and the fact he had supported Jiann in the decision to retrieve her made Jareth inclined to believe it might be true. It was enough to force him to reconsider his opinion of the High King's reasons for giving him the Goblin Throne all those years ago. That question however, would need to wait. For now, his grandfather was bound by ritual and magic.

"The right to Choose the Challenge is yours," the High King said, his voice hard.

Leann let her eyes fall on Sarah and her lip curled slightly," The Rite of Kingship and Dynasty."

The High King's head snapped up and his unguarded expression bleached his face of color as his eyes burned with fury. An audible murmur of shock swept the ballroom. Leann was not just proposing a Challenge, but one of THE Challenges. Jareth felt a cold wind whip his hair and he knew his eyes were bleeding to gold. More murmurs, this time of interest as he held the change, feathers threaded through his hair, his lips curled back from teeth gone feral and pointed. Even his grandfather seemed uneasy at this display of power. Jareth smiled coldly. He might not have the glamour of the Sidhe, but if they had cared to look all those years ago, they might have seen something a bit more...practical.

Leann's smug confidence slipped a notch toward wary.

It took an extreme amount of control to hold the change at bay, once begun. It took power and it took skill. He could see the Lords of the Sidhe mentally reevaluating their chances of wresting his Kingdom from him by force. Not that he had ever been in danger of such an occurrence, but it had always been in their minds that it would be easy to do so should they wish. Now, he saw with satisfaction, they were suddenly recalling just whose grandson he was.

Jareth stayed away from the Court by choice.

That could change.

Emboldened by witnesses and her own pride, Leann's moment of fear faded and she smiled at Jareth, her eyes bright and bitter. She had never forgiven him for refusing her father's offer years ago. Nor had she forgiven the fact that one she deemed as barely worthy refused to kneel at her feet. That he held the Labyrinth and thus remained beyond her ability to force simply made her hatred burn hotter. She would kill Sarah with this Challenge and see nothing but an obstacle in her way. Worse, she could do it without risking her own life or well-being.

Unseelie was what she was, even if her blood was pure.

Sarah was studying Leann with a narrow expression and he noted with cold satisfaction that the shimmer of Magefire running up Sarah's arms was making Leann distinctly uneasy. The invisible fire was an unconscious reaction to threat and it would not take much to shift defensive reflex into offensive attack. Regretfully, Jareth would have to prevent any injuries, but Leann did not have to know that.

"I accept," Sarah said evenly, before he had a chance to explain the implications.

It should not have worked. She did not understand the Ritual and the confusion in her eyes when Leann had spoken the words had been plain. The Binding simply did not work where the consequences were unknown, and yet...

It did.

A crackle of magic and the clock melted in a rainbow of colors that twisted and reformed itself into an alter containing a silver chalice. Only when the Champion returned to sip from the Chalice, would the Binding be broken. The oak doors of the Great Hall opened in silent confirmation of the end of this part of the ritual.

Jareth stared at the Chalice in disbelief, then did the only thing he could do without turning on Leann and tearing her throat out with his bare hands.

He left.


	8. Chapter 8

Traditionally, Jareth was not required to stay with his Champion once the acceptance had been given by both parties. It would have been good manners, but after seeing the way his eyes had gone feral in the ballroom, Jiann was not about to insist on formality. Instead, she kept herself attached to Sarah's side and made sure the girl understood the Rite she had agreed to undergo.

Like Jareth, she had been caught off guard by the willingness of the magic to overlook Sarah's ignorance. However, she had been better placed to see the girl's eyes as she watched Leann. While the child might be ignorant of the particulars, she had clearly been aware that her life and those of her friends were at stake. Later, she had said only that she would never allow her friends to become vulnerable to that woman. Jiann had regretted that Jareth had not apparently been included in that number, but had contented herself with the fact the girl had trusted him enough when it really mattered.

She stared at the slowly healing burns on her hands soberly.

"So a female Champion is unusual," Sarah commented from her place near the window.

For the last several hours, the girl had been unnaturally restless, content only when she could see the sky outside the castle. Assuming it was a side affect of the awakening of her magic, Jiann let her be.

"Not unusual," she denied." But it is rare for this Challenge to be made when the Monarch in question is male. The original intent of the Rite was to test the moral character of the Champion, and as that includes most of the virtues expected of a knight this has tended to limit the Rite to those Challenges where the Champion in question is male."

"Women can't be knights?" Sarah asked dryly.

Jiann shook her head and sighed. The girl seemed so determined to see the Sidhe through the mirror of her mortal life.

"The Rite of Kingship can only be undergone by a Warrior. Champions who wear the Dragon are almost exclusively Fire and Air. Earth has never worn the Dragon yet nearly all ranking Sidhe women are Earth. We are Healers for the most part. We were bred for it. Even when a female not of Earth has offered herself for the Trial, other factors can prevent her from being chosen. Simple mathematics dictates that a female wearing the Dragon to be a rare event. When you factor in that the Rite of Kingship itself is even more rare, you will understand why this is almost unprecedented."

"And the magic decides?" Sarah asked again, the disbelief in her voice clearly audible.

"The magic is Bound to only accept a rightful Challenge,"Jiann explained patiently. "Only a ranking Sidhe may make the Challenge, one of a similar rank to the one being Challenged. That alone limits the potential Challengers. Then the Challenger must be prepared to levy a forfeit to be given to the Challenged should the Champion succeed. And for the Kingship and Dynasty to be accepted as a valid Challenge the Kingdom must be in peril as a direct result of the unwed status of the Monarch. Traditionally, a Queen who is not a Warrior would qualify as leaving the Kingdom vulnerable. But the magic has its own logic and it clearly accepts that this Challenge serves the Goblin Kingdom."

The magic that created the Rite was an Ancient and lost art and wars had been settled with its use. Jiann herself understood its purpose, but even she could not say exactly how the magic made its decisions. Millennia of history, and almost universally the outcome had been positive for the Sidhe. Whether it was positive for the people involved, however, was an answer lost in time.

Jiann looked at Sarah and debated her next set of actions. Logically, the girl needed to be trained, but Sidhe powerful enough to train her were few and far between. The girl was exceptionally strong if what Jiann had sensed was accurate. That was something to think about as the Labyrinth had been Bound to gift her enough magic to make her Jareth's equal. It was an interesting development.

Air could train her, being a close complement, but of the handful she would have thought powerful enough, Jiann trusted only her father in this matter. Jareth...was an unknown factor. Jiann was strong enough, but she did not think she could train her.

Earth might complement Fire, but Fire was inevitably drawn to Air.

Luckily, they should have some time to prepare. The negotiations for the forfeit could drag on for weeks. If the Champion won, the forfeit became the property of the Challenged as restitution. If the Champion lost, for this Challenge, the Challenged still retained the forfeit, this time as Marriage Gift on behalf of the Challenger. As a result, the negotiations were often as contentious as the conflicts which drove the Challenger to Challenge. Add in the fact that the Champion received the full value of the forfeit should the Challenged refuse a successful Champion's Request, and the Rite of Kingship nearly always ended in a marriage of state.

Since the forfeit told others much about the intentions of both Challenged and Challenger, the choices were as careful a political decision as any Treaty. Indeed, in many cases, that was exactly what this Rite became. Jiann did not expect to see her son for days, perhaps more if he closeted himself with her father's advisors. So it was with some shock that she found him gliding through her window a bare six hours after the Binding, emerging in a flurry of feathers.

Sarah had ducked instinctively, and was now watching him expressionlessly. Jareth smiled grimly at Jiann and it was with some trepidation that she took the scroll he proffered her. She unrolled it far enough to read the demands for the forfeit and couldn't prevent the widening of her eyes. She looked at him mutely. Was he really prepared to do this?

From the look in his eyes, he really was.

She left him alone with his Champion. Given the contents of the scroll, it would be pointless to suggest he allow his grandfather to train her and as his Champion, Sarah did not need a chaperon. She entered her father's study and waited for him to acknowledge her. Curiosity flickered in his eyes when he saw the scroll and she handed it over.

"He intends to marry her," she said bluntly.

Her own curiosity flickered when he did not react as she expected. Instead of surprise, his eyes brightened with interest and he unrolled the scroll. The demands were few but costly from Marag's point of view. The cancellation of water rights negotiated by Marag's great great grandfather. An expanse of forest that stood between the Goblin Kingdom and the Dwarvish Kingdom to the East. And the corridor of land that ran the length of the mountains to the west of Marag's holdings. That was it. In and of themselves, almost worthless. But what they represented...

The water rights had always been a contentious issue. The water Marag siphoned off was desperately needed by the Goblin Kingdom. Worse, those maintaining the pipelines had been known to run rampant in goblin territory. Jareth had been merciless when he could catch them on goblin land, but they always seemed to make it back to the pipeline before their crimes were discovered.

The forest was another matter. The strip of land between the Goblin border and the Dwarvish Kingdom was narrow. Although the forest itself was deadly, it was the tolls charged by Marag for Jareth's caravans that made trade more expensive than it needed to be and limited Jareth's influence with the Dwarves. Other than the forest, the only other route was through the Desert and that was not...wise. The Goblin Kingdom was bordered on one side by the Endless Sea, yet in spite of the trade routes his ships were capable of accessing, Jareth was able to do little with them.

The corridor of land along the mountains was the last and largest demand. It was Jareth's quickest and least expensive way for his caravans to get to the Inner Kingdoms. It had not been so bad before Marag had taken the throne, but as a result of Marag's tolls, by the time any caravans arrived back in the Goblin Kingdom, the goods were too expensive for most to buy. The majority of Jareth's cash income came from a single copper mine in the Inner Kingdom that Jiann had gifted him. She suspected that after Jareth rejected Leann the first time, the income of that mine was all that stood between many of his subjects and starvation.

Whatever happened, Jareth clearly intended to be free of Marag forever.

Should Sarah be victorious, Jareth was unlikely to let such precious independence slip through his fingers by refusing to marry her. Jareth had as good as said the crown of the Goblin Queen belonged to her if she wanted it. Even more interesting was the reaction of the Chalice when the High King strode into the Great Hall and presented it with Jareth's terms.

Forfeits needed to be approved by the Binding magic. Usually the Chalice was silent until both parties had come to an agreement. If Jiann remembered correctly, the Chalice generally only intervened when the parties deadlocked. Such a possibility inspired both Challenged and Challenger to be reasonable. In this case however, the Chalice glowed immediately, signaling acceptance of the terms before Marag even had a chance to read them. His face turned a dangerous shade of purple and Jiann had wondered with some interest if he would drop dead out of sheer righteous fury.

Even more oddly, her father simply appeared pleased.

Whatever Jareth was planning clearly agreed with both the magic and the High King.

Sarah stood beside Jareth in the Hall, obviously unaware that anything unusual had taken place. She looked at Jiann in question when she noticed many of the covert looks being sent her way, but she did not appeared to realize that her journey was about to begin immediately, not days or weeks away. How was she supposed to cope with her magic only half trained, Jiann wondered frantically.

As if in answer to her question, a deep chime rang from the Chalice and Jareth looked down at his hands, startled as colors began to wreath his body. The Sidhe nearest him began to jostle for distance and the rest stared in disbelief. There was no conflict with his magic, no pain, and when the colors dissipated, a narrow-eyed Jareth could be seen inspecting his new armor with incredulous pleasure. A winged Dragon in shimmering blue glowed against a black dragon scale breastplate. The ballroom was dead silent.

The Goblin King just threw back his head and laughed.


	9. Chapter 9

Sarah resisted the urge to pick up a rock and brain her companion.

One minute Jareth had been cackling insanely after a Lord of the Rings style makeover, the next, the two of them had been surrounded by a silver glow that spun her around until she wanted to vomit. Then it dropped her without warning and she hit the ground harder than she expected. Far from being annoyed at the turn of events, Jareth had held out his arms and stared down at his new armor with delight. The boyish delight was still in evidence, and she had caught him stroking the dragon insignia on his chest when he thought she wasn't looking.

Her mood grew blacker with every mile they put behind them.

She had learned enough to understand that this journey was not going to be like the Labyrinth. This was not, as Jareth had said succinctly, a learning experience. The tasks they would need to complete were formalized, and specifically designed to prove they had the required virtues to rule a kingdom.

Sarah kicked a stone into the trees around them, and glared at the back of Jareth's head.

His wildly spiky locks, so different from the flowing locks of the Court, were streaked with an iridescent blue that matched the Dragon on his armor. She had smirked when she first saw it, but she had to admit it was eye-catching. In every way he looked the part of the hero in a fairy tale and she, supposedly his Champion, was relegated to trotting along behind him.

It might not be a learning experience, but she had learned a few uncomfortable truths about herself. She had been proud of the fact she had caused a stir in the court...and apparently she still wanted to prove herself to Jareth. Angrily she wrestled with the desire, determined to kill it. Over and over she reminded herself why she despised him. Unfortunately, the words felt hollow, even to her. In the end, she had always been angrier with herself than Jareth. He might have promised her something he couldn't deliver, but it had been her mind that had created the wish in the first place.

She had worked so hard to become someone she could admire. Someone who was far removed from a silly little girl whose heart's desire was nauseatingly simpleminded, a ballgown and handsome prince. The problem with that fantasy was what happened when the ball was over. She could not dance forever.

She liked being a firefighter. She loved the challenge of it. The comradeship and respect of her fellow firefighters. The hope and relief in the eyes of those she led to safety knowing she had done that. She had put that happiness there. Years she had worked to be the person she was, and after all of that, she was disappointed because Jareth had stolen her chance to prove she was more than she had been. More than the girl who had not been enough.

What was the point in being here if Jareth was allowed to save himself?

She found herself watching the fluid motion of his body beneath his armor and felt a stir of hunger that normally only plagued her in her dreams. God, she wanted him. She wanted to wind her fingers in his hair and see that long-ago look in his eyes as she wrapped her legs around him and he thrust himself into her. But she no longer had Toby to buy his compliance and if he did not need her to be his Champion, what else did she have to offer?

It was humiliating to realize that somewhere along the way, she had decided to live the lie. For once, she had intended to give in and pretend it was all real. Her decision must have crystallized sometime during the dinner with all those women tweaking her curiosity with vague hints of his skills as a lover. He might not love her, but the ache of his absence couldn't be any worse than the ache of missing what she had never known. And maybe, faced with reality, she could finally let go of the dream.

Resentfully she wondered when the satisfied glow of self-knowledge descended. Wasn't she supposed to feel lighter, or free, or some crap like that? She had acknowledged that she didn't hate Jareth. Done. Wasn't she supposed to feel happier? Frankly, she had felt better after falling down three flights of stairs and getting pounded by a high-pressure jet of water. All she felt at the moment was depressed and hollow, as if she had just lost something.

Also, her legs were killing her.

Jareth had been steadily leading her up what she finally realized was a mountain. After years of climbing stairs carrying forty extra pounds of gear on her body, the pain was familiar. Annoyingly, Jareth- who probably teleported everywhere and had never seen the inside of a gym in his life-appeared annoyingly chipper and pain free.

He turned toward her with a bright grin that faded when he saw her face.

"We are almost at the top," he told her after a moment.

She nodded sharply and waited for him to continue. She settled for a look of irritation when he just stood there and watched her with a hesitant expression.

"It won't be much longer," he offered finally.

"I'm fine," she said, annoyed that he obviously thought she might not be able to keep up. "After burning buildings, this is a piece of cake." she said with a carefree nonchalance.

His smile disappeared entirely. "I suppose it is," he said softly.

He glanced away from her and now she was angry because in spite of her resentment, she hadn't meant to wipe the joy from his face. Feeling mean and useless and unattractive she pushed past him with a scowl aimed squarely at herself. Determined to get this portion of the journey over with, and equally determined to drive away the lust fogging her brain she set a punishing pace. Punishing for herself, that was. She doubted Jareth noticed the difference.

He was following her, because when she turned her head she could see him in the corner of her eye. She could feel him as well, but she could not hear him. He was eerily silent and she supposed she could blame the Sidhe genes for that. One more thing she did not have, she thought ruefully as her breathing grew labored. Finally, just when she was convinced her pride was going to be the death of her, the mountain flattened out and she caught her breath in wonder as the ground stretched away from her in a seemingly endless plateau.

Jareth stopped beside her and when she looked at him, he was peering with focused interest toward the center of the plateau. She felt the vibrations before she heard them, the rolling thunder of hooves echoing faintly beneath her feet. Then they were there and she felt her heart stop for the sheer beauty of them as they swept toward them.

They looked like horses at first. The flowing manes and tails, four hooves and an equine-shaped body. It was when they got closer she could pick out the differences, the subtle flow and shift that screamed not from Above. The vaguely reptilian heads. The living armor that protected the most vulnerable areas of the body.

The red eyes, she thought faintly.

These were not the graceful horses described in legend, although grace did not begin to describe their movement. Whatever they were, they had been bred for war, and it showed in every deadly curve and line. One of the horses turned to look at her and she could have sworn she saw a hint of fang as it seemed to laugh at her.

The herd surrounded them, then came to an eerily silent halt. Manes and tails flowed gently in the breeze, but the animals themselves stood still. With a snort, a jet black stallion pranced forward, coming to a halt before Jareth. A look of amazement crossed the Goblin King's face and he held his hand out cautiously.

Sarah felt her breath catch as they stood there, each as magnificent in their own way as the other. Jareth was tall, but his head barely came to the stallion's shoulder. With a liquid grace almost as effortless as that of the animal before him, Jareth was suddenly astride its back. For one frozen moment, the wind tugged at the manes of both male animals, then they began to dance.

There was no other word for it.

The stunned disbelief on Jareth's face was raw, and she flushed as she realized just what she had been thinking as she stared at him. Glancing away in embarrassment she found herself being watched by the rest of the herd. She waited, wondering what she was supposed to do. When nothing happened, she wondered if maybe she didn't rate a horse, or whatever these things were. She definitely couldn't live up to Jareth's Sidhe beauty, and whatever else these creatures were, they were beautiful.

She looked at the herd wistfully.

Movement off to her left distracted her and she turned to see one of the animals ripping furiously at the grass beneath her hooves and pointedly ignoring the others. Those closest to her eyed her warily and kept a careful distance from her hooves. The mare seemed to feel Sarah's gaze on her because she suddenly jerked her head up and glared at her as if daring her to comment.

Sarah smiled wryly," You look as angry as I feel," she told the mare with a sigh.

The mare pointedly turned away from her just enough to make it clear Sarah was being ignored. Strangely relieved to find somebody who wasn't cheerfully delighted and blissfully beautiful, Sarah wandered as close as she dared. The mare lowered her ears in warning when Sarah got too close and Sarah stopped, not wanting to provoke a kick or bite. She looked at the mare curiously.

Compared to the others, she was not beautiful. Most of the other mares were long in the body compared to their width and it was partly those proportions that gave them their sinuous grace. Even Jareth's stallion was slender compared to what she would have expected if he had been a horse. The mare was heavily muscled and bulky by comparison. Instead of flowing, her mane was almost as spiky as Jareth's, falling in tangled wild locks. Her head was broad and her fangs were elongated and dangerous. A vivid stripe of white slashed across her face like the gaping scar of some giant claw.

She was what she was and she looked the part.

Sarah thought she was beautiful.

Strong, wild, and free.

The mare was also glaring at something behind Sarah and she swiveled to see Jareth swinging a stick in what she assumed to be some sort of mounted maneuver designed for a sword. She snorted in an unintentional echo of the mare's earlier comment, then sighed as the stallion pranced around the herd with arrogant assurance.

She eyed the disgusted looked on the mare's face. "Pretty aren't they?" she asked wistfully.

The mare lifted her head and glared. _Go away_

Sarah froze as the voice rang in her head. "You talked!" she heard herself squeak.

The mare snorted.

Delight cascaded through her. "Say something else," Sarah begged.

Silence.

"Please?"

The mare eyed her with evil intent and her ears flattened. _Go talk to the others. Go find your warhorse and leave me alone._

The word she used was not exactly warhorse, but the image was extremely warlike so Sarah decided it worked. She looked at the herd watching her with sidelong curiosity and some ear-twitching that seemed to signify something agitated.

"None of them wanted to say hello," Sarah muttered.

The mare snapped her teeth on an unoffending patch of grass and ripped it from the ground. Sarah was certain her eyes were rolling. _You must Choose._

"Chose what?" Sarah asked, confused.

_Your warhorse!_

Given that the emotions she was getting from the mare seemed to indicate a permanent decision she considered the herd intently, then found her eyes drifting back to the mare beside her.

"I don't suppose you'd say yes if I chose you." Sarah mumbled.

The mare's head swung around and her teeth flashed. Sarah heard a shout but was trapped by the flare of the mare's eyes as she was captured and held by alien emotion.

_Do not mock me, human_

Sarah could feel the rage pouring from the mare, and she could hear the thunder of hooves behind her, but all she could feel was the pain that felt so like her own when she watched Jareth and knew that what she wanted was out of reach. Without stopping to consider that she might lose her hand she reached up and touched the mare's face.

"You," Sarah whispered," if you say yes, I Choose you."

She felt a cascade of emotions tumble through her. Longing. Bitterness. Rage. Behind it she sensed uncertainty and confusion. In a flash she realized she wasn't supposed to ask permission, but the hell with it. She had enough to worry about with Jareth. She needed a friend who wanted to be with her, not one trapped by magic.

_I don't understand_

"It's only fair if you Choose me too," Sarah explained.

She slid her arms around the mare's neck and she pushed her broad face into Sarah's chest. Sarah's eyes prickled with tears as wave after wave of desperate hope and fear and hunger slammed into her mind.

_Yes. I Choose you._

She had a split second to sense the mare's intent before the mare's head dropped low against Sarah's stomach and she heaved upwards, throwing Sarah into the air. Sarah shrieked, then laughed insanely as her hold on the mare's mane caused her to pivot and she dropped down squarely astride her.


	10. Chapter 10

When he had stepped out onto the plateau, for one moment, Jareth had forgotten everything except the beauty of the animals before him. The Sidhe warhorses of legend had lost nothing of their grandeur over the years. If anything, the tales had not done them justice. Their numbers had dwindled, so many of them lost in the war that had created the Desert, and then to the long centuries of battle against Despair. Jareth himself had seen only one, in his youth. His grandfather had been honored by the friendship of one, and that stallion had been ancient before Jareth was Sarah's age.

The warhorses were long-lived, but they were not Sidhe.

A mental image of Sarah as she screamed while her magic awoke briefly distracted him. She did not know it, but that awakening had changed her. Had it remained slumbering, she would have lived a handful of mortal years, and then died in the normal way of things. But the human body was not meant to be a vessel for strong magic, and in order to contain the gift, her body had needed to change. He was certain she did not know that yet.

She would be harder to kill and swifter to heal once her body adapted. Her fertility would be somewhat reduced, that had always been a problem for the Sidhe. It was no longer a question of inbreeding-they had seen to that years ago by breeding with mortals-but magical natures conflicted. Sarah would never carry a Water child to term, and she would have difficulty if the child were Earth. Jareth felt a pang of loss for the Sidhe daughters she might never know.

She would likely not conceive at all unless her mate were Fire or Air.

Given their natures, Air and Earth should have little difficulty producing a child of Water and yet the exact opposite had proven true. Something in the Sidhe magic rejected Water-or Water rejected them. The gender split of Air for the male children and Earth for the female had occurred as a result of necessity. The Sidhe had desperately needed Earth skills to heal as the Mage Storms swept across the land and female children were twice as likely to be Earth. Any female of Earth had been encouraged to avoid battle and breed often. The consequences had been inevitable, given their biology and the artificial selection of conflict.

Fire was always rare.

Its children had been the first to die in the War of Destruction.

She would not be immortal, but for all practical purposes the Sidhe died like any other creature through injury or the rare disease. Suicide was not uncommon in the extremely aged who had seen too many generations and no longer found joy in life. With that in mind, Sarah could be expected to live as long as any of them.

Content with that thought, he had let the beauty and power of the warhorses seduce him. His eye had been caught by one particularly fine male. The stallion shone like onyx and he was truly something out of legend. Jareth had known his own weaknesses for decades, but he was still surprised by the shaft of longing that shot through him as he envisaged himself riding that animal. Surely the friendship of such a wonder would prove to the Court that the blood of the Sidhe had not thinned, that he was worth something more than a night of curiosity.

He had been shocked when the magnificent animal had pranced forward and dropped its head to his outstretched hand. And the voice! The stallion possessed a wicked sense of humor and an arrogant confidence in his own beauty combined with an amiable goodwill that had seemed at odds with his original purpose in life. Then Jareth sensed the protective impulses deep beneath the surface and realized that perhaps it was not so odd at all.

He had lost himself in the wonder of new friendship until a jolt of alarm from the stallion had dragged his attention around and he saw Sarah facing off with a feral looking mare that did not match any of his expectations for a Sidhe warhorse.

 _Bad-tempered mare,_ his stallion agreed.

Beneath the words came images. The Riders of the Wild Hunt still came to Choose, and other Warriors occasionally found their way here. The mare had become untrustworthy, showing her heels to the Riders and the stallion had been forced to forbid her to approach with the rest of the herd. Beneath that came a vague sense of guilt, because there was no getting around the fact that the mare was a throwback to an earlier age.

Plainly put, she was ugly.

Jareth was more concerned about the fangs than his mount's rambling commentary. When she swung her head toward Sarah, Jareth shouted reflexively and his stallion snorted in fear. They tore across the meadow both knowing they would arrive too late. Then the stallion slammed to a halt, and it was sheer luck Jareth didn't end up lying on his back in front of him. A blast of disbelief came from the stallion, then confusion. Jareth watched with astonishment as the mare threw Sarah into the air.

"You can do that?" he asked, incredulous.

 _I cannot,_ the stallion muttered, obviously piqued at his lack of a positive ability.

Jareth snickered, in spite of the fear still coursing through his blood. The beast was as vain as a Sidhe Lord. His stallion snorted and pranced in place as Jareth was informed that the stallion had reason to be vain. After all, he was magnificent.

"But you can't throw me into the air,"Jareth teased.

 _Neck not short enough, head too narrow,_ came the grumbled answer.

Jareth thought about that and realized that the mare must be a throwback to the original war beasts, the ones bred before the War of Destruction. Her body was built for strength and endurance, not the disturbingly haunting grace that marked the eerie path of the Wild Hunt.

 _Fast too,_ the stallion admitted reluctantly. _Bad tempered mare._

For a moment, Jareth was confused. With his greater height and longer legs, the stallion should be able to outrun anything in this meadow. Then he caught an image of a whirling dervish of teeth and clawed hooves and understood the stallion to mean agility and the ability to change direction in an instant. All things needed on a battlefield.

He would not have Chosen the mare, Jareth admitted to himself. All he had seen was the beauty he himself lacked and the possibility that maybe he could show Sarah that he was more than what she thought him. Aside from the fact that the stallion permitted him to ride, perhaps for once, he could be as eye-catching as the rest of the Sidhe. He had his own vanity, he realized.

As he brooded on this flaw, he admired the picture she made, bent low over the mare's back, her armor merging with the sheen of the mare's coat. His Sarah. None of the other Sidhe ladies would have bothered to look beyond the surface. Nor, he thought, would they have felt comfortable riding such a beast, as if its ugly appearance would reflect upon them. Even he, who should have known better, had fallen into that trap.

His Sarah would spit in their eye and defy anyone to see her friend as less than beautiful. And truly, the mare was a fiercesome example of what she had been bred to be. If it came to battle, his Sarah would be well protected. For that alone he would be forever indebted to the beast. It was to his shame that he saw beauty first, and let the opinions of others sway him.

His mood darkened.

Perhaps she was right to despise him. He might be able to recognize his own folly, but that did not change the fact of its existence. Had the mare been his only choice, he would not have been able to ride her into the Inner Kingdom with a whole heart, not as she deserved. What sort of person did that make him? And it was true that the fact she had apparently chosen Jareth would lower Sarah in the eyes of many. Was there not a hint of regret that the mount she had Chosen would not instantly silence those doubters?

He watched bemused as Sarah and her mare suddenly shifted direction and came toward them at an alarming pace. The mare's lips were peeled back from her fangs and the expression on Sarah's face was almost as fierce. Just when Jareth thought a crash inevitable, the mare pivoted and translated her inertia into a series of sideways hops that ended with Sarah planted squarely at his side. The stallion shifted nervously as the mare gave him an evil sideways look and Sarah eyed Jareth with challenge in her gaze.

 _Bad tempered mares,_ his stallion warned him.

Indeed.

"She is most fierce, Sarah. Do you know her history?"

From the look on her face and the set of her ears, the mare was not fooled, but Sarah relaxed her guarded position as he recited the history of the Sidhe warhorses as he knew it. Up close, the mare was even more blunt-featured than he had thought and the slash of white across her muzzle only drew the eye to the broad head and extra long fangs. Jareth found himself studying the mare with some confusion. She was powerful, no doubt about that. But Sarah was not a trained warrior to see such things. What then had drawn her to the beast?

It was a question that kept his mind occupied long after their mounts had descended the mountain and headed for next leg of the journey.


	11. Chapter 11

She could sense her warhorse prowling on the edges of her mind, occasionally asking a question or making a wry observation, but mostly focused on the adventure before her. Sarah spent the hours of the journey off the mountain contemplating the nature of her new friendship. It was disturbing, on many levels. There should be something intrinsically wrong with earning the devotion of such a creature by doing no more than seeing something no one else had seen. Surely friendship should mean more, be built on more.

And yet...

Perhaps that was the difference between children and adults.

Children do not anticipate betrayal before extending friendship. They see something they like in another person and unconditionally, their heart is offered. And yet, bright and innocent though such friendship would be, it was a thing of joy and laughter and had no foundation upon which it could be rested. That came with time and knowledge and if the two friends turned out to be incompatible, the friendship turned fickle and was lost.

Adults had learned that childhood friendship was not to be trusted.

Perhaps that was why it was so much harder to form friendships with adults. An adult could see so easily that all that time and effort could be wasted, and who has the time to lose? Maybe it wasn't so much that adults were less trusting, it was simply that they were so much more aware about the cost of time.

What did that say about Jareth? As a Sidhe, he had no need to chart time, or fear its passing. While it was clear that they were capable of considering the future, she had already noticed that the Sidhe lived very much in the now.

She wondered if perhaps what she had seen in her dream was not so much a lie, as a childhood desire that could not bear the weight of adult expectations. Thirteen hours. That was all she really knew of him, and even that was mostly spent in the Labyrinth. Remove the parts of the story that were simple make-believe and what was left?

She had spent so many years cursing the fact she had fallen in love with him. That he had offered her a dream of love and bound it to her with magic strength that she could not shake free of it. Her adult self had known that she did not know enough of him to truly love him, not as a woman, but perhaps she had been wrong about how love started.

It was only another form of friendship. Seeing something one desired, and then learning through time and experience whether it could be trusted. Perhaps it was she who had misunderstood. Friendships among the Sidhe must take decades to build. Perhaps Jareth truly had seen something in her worth pursuing, but felt he could not. She had been a child after all, and he had never, the entire time she was in the Labyrinth, acted inappropriately toward her.

She was the one who had felt betrayed. But was it possible she had been judging him with mortal standards? Jiann had said her magic was a result of a deliberate choice of words on his part. He had to have guessed she would spurn any offer he made while Toby's freedom was at stake. The magic he had gifted her was surely intended to bring her back Underground, if she wished it.

Perhaps what she had seen in his eyes was only the first step of the dance.

The question then, was what did she want to do about it?

Sarah had not needed a psychiatrist to tell her that she had a deep seated fear of rejection. Not the absolute rejection of being tossed out onto the streets, but the slow soul-destroying knowledge that she was always second best. She had come second to her mother's career. Her father's loyalty seemed to go to Karen first and Karen's first thought was Toby. She had understood that that was the way it was supposed to be, but just once, she had wanted to be first with someone.

Perhaps that had been the lure of the Goblin King.

The book had never mentioned love. She had been the one who seen that potential. What was it about the character of the Goblin King that had drawn her? When she had first recognized him, there in her bedroom, it sure as hell had not been fear in her voice. If it had not been for Toby, the story might have had a completely different ending - on her part anyway. What had she wanted to believe?

He wasn't evil. That had never been in question. Even her teenage self had recognized that he could not be blamed because someone else wished a child away. It had annoyed her that simply asking for Toby back had not worked, but she had not really expected him to say yes. And he had made his point. What was said was said. Whether she meant them or not, the words had done damage and she was the one who would have to fix it.

Some part of her had even relished the chance to prove she was capable of beating his maze.

He was a man of his word. The Labyrinth had rules and he abided by them. He kept his word, unlike people who forgot her birthday or didn't call when they said they would because they had been distracted by an audition.

He would have been lonely as well, as lonely as she was. A man with only goblins for companions, trapped in his castle, waiting for the right girl to come along and save him.

Sarah snorted. Sad to say, that's probably exactly what she had been thinking at fifteen. She eyed the breadth of his shoulders and the firm muscles of his thighs hinted at beneath his armor. She was about to laugh at the absurdity of someone who looked like him needing anyone to rescue him. Then she remembered the Champion's ball. She hesitated and forced herself to reexamine her own assumptions.

Why was he alone?

Considering that this fact lay at the heart of why she was risking her life in the first place, she glumly decided that she was going to have to ask a few questions. Joy. She had a feeling this was going to be extremely unpleasant for all involved. Before she could regret her decision, she nudged the mare into moving up beside Jareth. The road was wide enough that she didn't have to worry about being scraped off by a tree. She toyed with several openings and finally just sighed and went with the question she really wanted to ask. The one that had been bugging her since Jiann arrived at the hospital.

"How did it come to this?"


	12. Chapter 12

Jareth forced himself to stay relaxed. He had been expecting the question; he just didn't know how to answer her. Truthfully, he had hoped Jiann might have filled in the gaps, but it looked like his mother had been regrettably tactful. Decades of practice kept his face serene.

"I'm not sure it will make sense to you," he admitted.

She narrowed her eyes and he shrugged," In truth it was many small things that built up over the years." He frowned as he considered where to start. "The Seelie Court can be a treacherous place. In many ways, it is our world in a bottle. The politics are unforgiving and the victories of the ballroom are very real. The Court reflects the world outside, and the battles that take place stand in for the real bloodshed that would occur otherwise."

The Sidhe had learned to find alternatives after the War of Destruction.

"My father was mortal," he said, gesturing toward his mis-matched eyes." Something that in and of itself would not be a problem if not for these."

She didn't understand, he could see that.

"My eyes are an outward symbol, a reminder that I am not pure Sidhe and therefore an unknown factor. My ability to be used against my grandfather was always higher than it should have been. Understand that the Court is about perception, and any weakness on my part could be construed as a weakness on his. As a result, I was kept away from those who would use me, and those who might have been true friends were often kept from me to avoid having their families swept up in political games in which they had no stake."

Her eyes widened and he smiled ruefully," It was not a bad childhood, and I fear I was spoiled far worse than you could ever have dreamed of being." He smiled softly in memory, then let the smile fade." Childhood, however, must eventually end. Inevitably I was introduced to the Court and it soon became apparent that my powers had been tainted by my mortal heritage."

His lack of glamour was something she would have seen for herself. As for the rest...

"Sidhe powers take time to mature. Mine took even longer. When I was young, the results of my magic were often unpredictable and uncontrollable. It was the general consensus that my magical ability had been crippled by my father's blood. That, in turn, was often used to suggest that my grandfather's heritage was not as strong as it should have been. By the time I learned to control my abilities, the perception had been made."

By that time, he had been seated on the Goblin Throne and could not afford to suddenly be seen as a threat. Under ordinary circumstances, his birth was too for the Goblin Throne, but crippled as he was, no one had questioned his effective exile. Besides, no one else wanted the Goblin Kingdom. Should his true abilities suddenly have become known, people might have recalled the exact nature of the Labyrinth and Jareth would have been at risk of being recalled. The last thing he needed anyone to remember was that he was not Jareth, crippled prince, but Jareth, Goblin King.

"For reasons peculiar to the Goblin Kingdom at this time, I can not afford to marry someone with weak magic. This is not a fact of politics, but a feature of survival. Unfortunately, the Sidhe have bred for magical strength for so long, except for certain family lines and the occasional result of an affair, the Sidhe with the strongest magic are the aristocrats - and I assure you, that none of the Ladies of rank have any desire to be the Goblin Queen."

Sarah sighed," See...that's what I don't get. What is so wrong with the Goblin Kingdom?" she asked exasperated.

"Mostly the Desert of Despair,"Jareth answered honestly. He thought about how to explain the rest." The Goblin Kingdom is a poor Kingdom, not the least of which due to the stranglehold Marag has on my trade routes." A stranglehold that was about be ended forever. The plans Jareth had might have made such precautions redundant, but it was always nice to have options.

She looked curious.

"Millennia ago, the Sidhe fought a terrible war and it nearly destroyed us. The magic loosed became disordered and unstructured. Insane, if you will and out of that insanity was born the Desert." His eyes darkened in memory of the twisted remains buried in red sand. "All the way to the mountains to the North and East, to the Endless Sea in the West, the Desert swallowed the Kingdoms of the Sidhe until it came to the Labyrinth. It was not the Goblin Kingdom then, merely an amusement, but it was an amusement that was to save the Sidhe from destruction. The Labyrinth reaches far into the mortal realm as well as having ties to the Wild Magic. Something about this mixture allowed the Labyrinth to stand fast when all else had fallen. The Kingdom of the Labyrinth was created, its Monarch tasked to stand as defense against the Desert."

She was still looking confused and he supposed he could understand. From the surface, it would appear that the Goblin Kingdom was something good, something heroic. It should have been, he thought resentfully. But like any race, the Sidhe did not like to be reminded of their mistakes.

"For the longest time, the Labyrinth Kings stood against the Desert, and it seemed to settle. To accept the new boundaries. Then the Goblins crept out of the sands."

When she had come up with that ridiculous fear that he would turn Toby into a goblin, he had wondered if even then she had sensed the truth. Her dream with the dancers as people beneath goblin masks had made him almost certain of it.

"They were the survivors. The ones who could not run fast enough and who were changed. They had no where else to go, so the Labyrinth took them in, and eventually, when it became clear that the Goblin traits bred true, they were sworn to the Labyrinth Kingdom and its King became their King in truth."

Jareth twisted his fingers and stared at the crystal that resulted pensively. He rolled it back and forth across his knuckles, a soothing gesture from childhood.

"The Goblins are a living reminder of a terrible crime, one which the Sidhe do not wish to be reminded. Nor do they wish to contemplate the fact that our entire world could fall if the Labyrinth fails. Nor, when all is said and done, that our world survived because of mortal dreams. What the Sidhe do not wish to remember, is easy to forget. Thus, the Goblin Throne is a position of some conflict. A King is a King, after all, but the Goblin Throne does not offer the Court that which they recognize, and the Sidhe women who might consider the crown a fair trade do not have the strength to wear it."

And, Jareth admitted, he had needed no more ties keeping the Goblin Throne bound to the Seelie court. Not if his plan was to succeed. An ambitious Queen could have upset the delicate balance Jareth was brewing. Beyond that, he had wanted to see something more in his wife's eyes than the knowledge that she had settled for second best in exchange for a crown.

That vague desire had crystallized into need after he had been drawn into Sarah's dream. She had looked at him as if he were the sum of all her desires and nothing else was acceptable after that. He might have reconsidered if the woman in question had had enough magic to do what needed to be done, but the choice had never arisen. Jareth had sacrificed much over the years, to save the Seelie Kingdom from destruction.

He was not willing to sacrifice what he had seen in Sarah's dream.

Not if there was any chance of it becoming reality.


	13. Chapter 13

Things, Sarah thought, were rapidly proceeding from bad to worse.

Not the quest. That had been singularly uneventful so far. As Jareth had said, it was little more than a series of tasks to be accomplished. Seven to be exact. She had accomplished the first task by being selected as Champion and had been awarded her armor. Sarah had not realized the armor was hers to keep. Keep and pass on, apparently. According to Jareth, such armor became cherished family heirlooms.

She could hear her warhorse grumbling in her head. So far she had been unsuccessful at coming up with an appropriate name and the mare had refused to answer when she asked. It had finally dawned on Sarah that maybe she wouldn't get the name until the mare knew for certain Sarah was going to survive. In any case, both animals were unhappily waiting outside the cave system she and Jareth were currently traversing.

They had crawled along ledges, climbed a near seamless stretch of wall, and braved the heat and noxious gases given off by a volcanic river of molten lava. At the moment, Jareth was edging his way across a narrow beam of rock suspended over an apparently bottomless abyss. All in all, not much different than the typical burning office building.

She rather thought she would keep that observation to herself.

Jareth had made it safely to the other side. Letting out a sigh of relief she tested the beam beneath her feet and found it solid. Unlike her turn-out gear, the armor did not affect her balance and it was easy enough to cross. Would that her new found knowledge of her companion was as easy to deal with.

She had finally realized that Jareth had issues.

Not particularly unusual ones, but it had been a lot easier when he had been the confident one. Now, she had to wonder just what she had gotten herself into. For ten years, the man had haunted her. For years, she had wanted him to find her. Seduce her. Fulfill all the sensual promises she had thought she had seen in his eyes. Now, she discovered an uneasy desire to protect him emerging. Worse, some of her anger was shifting, and if her anger with Jareth had always been tainted by unwelcome desire and frustration, what she was beginning to feel for the Seelie Court was cold enough to frighten her.

It was, she thought morbidly, a bona fide disaster in the making.

How was she ever supposed to trust his feelings if she was half convinced he was reacting to the novelty of having someone admire him?

More caverns, a tunnel of rock that had to be navigated on her belly, and an underground river later and she was still trying to work that one out. Was she truly willing to be the Goblin Queen, completely separate from her feelings for Jareth? She couldn't ignore the fact that he had taken a risk all those years ago, specifically to provide her with powers matching his own. She understood his logic. She lacked the prejudices of the Seelie Court and-thanks to Jareth -had a magical gift strong enough to survive whatever the Desert of Despair threw at her. She was also certain the fact she was mortal and could affect the Labyrinth with her dreams factored in there somewhere.

He expected her to marry him.

For her to demand the crown as a prize.

From the perspective of the Goblin Kingdom, that might be a good thing. She could not lie to herself and claim she wasn't flattered. But there were other considerations beyond Jareth's plotting and plans. Could she stay if he didn't love her? Taking a hard look at her own feelings, she asked herself another question. Did she love him? The fantasy had been with her so long. How much had she created out of teenage longings and loneliness? And in the end, did it even matter?

The Desert of Despair would not care who loved who in the end.

A hand grabbing her wrist and pulling her off the current ledge to safety temporarily broke into her thoughts. She looked up to see Jareth looking down at her, a mingled expression of exasperation and annoyance on his face.

"Would you at least try to pretend this is difficult?" He requested shortly.

Resisting the urge to stick her tongue out, she returned to her musings. What had she expected to happen? If she had saved him, and Jareth had magically fallen in love with her, what had she expected to happen? Had she intended to be a firefighter by day, Goblin Queen by night? That was one hell of a commute. On the other hand, it didn't take a rocket scientist to realize she had issues of her own. Searching for people in fire, trying to find herself in a maze of office doors and halls.

She had never stopped trying to beat the Labyrinth.

Not really.

She wasn't cut out for ballrooms, she realized. If that was what the job entailed, she wasn't his girl. She'd be willing to consider fighting this Desert of Despair of his, but if he intended her to sit in the castle and give orders to the goblins, he'd just have to settle for a torrid affair. Assuming that was even on the table.

So...what if the role of Goblin Queen was exactly what she was beginning to think it was? Trade routes and bandit hunting. Bogs of Stench and Deserts of Despair. Could she live like that? Holding the line, protecting her friends? Could she handle sleeping with a man who curled her toes but who might feel more gratitude than attraction?

It was the uncertainty, she decided. All points were open for negotiation except one. She could handle being second best; she could even handle being a lack of reasonable alternatives. But there was one thing on which she would not waver.

If he ever came to her bed, he damn well better want to be there.


	14. Chapter 14

Currently, the Goblin King was a disgruntled King.

While he was very happy Sarah was not scared out of her wits, it might have been nice if his Champion appeared to consider this Challenge something other than a courtyard stroll. His reasonable side pointed out that the Goblin Queen would need to be brave. The side that had hoped to impress her, just a little bit, wanted to tell reasonable to bugger off.

As far as courting her went, he was 0 for 3 as the mortals would say.

The Dragon on his chest appeared to mean little to her. Not only did she wear one of her own, but she did not hold the same preconceived notions as the Seelie Court. If anything was left of her childhood impressions, he was either a slightly tragic hero or a heartless villain. At least the armor probably swung the balance more toward tragic than villain.

The beauty of his stallion might hold a momentary appeal for her, but as her own Choice showed, his future Queen had a ruthlessly practical side. It was reassuring in many ways, given his lack of glamour, but how was he supposed to appeal to her practical side when she wasn't paying attention?

No doubt she was accustomed to physical competence in the men around her. It would be more noticeable for its lack that its presence, but that left him with only four more tests and he still wasn't precisely certain what she wanted. The spell he had sent her in the Labyrinth was complicated and the answers not always obvious.

That she had been looking for him had been clear from the magic. It had drawn him into the dream, and she had desired him on a physical level if the attitudes of the dancers were anything to judge by. Physical desire might give him a place to start, but he knew better than anyone how fleeting and ultimately fickle such desire was. Any of a hundred Sidhe Lords could encourage the same response with a simple glamour.

Her Heart's Desire was more elusive.

He was uncertain how far the magic had delved into her psyche. He had been cast in a role she had created in her mind long before she had met him. The dangerous part was assuming her fifteen year old self had been old enough to give a clear indication of what the woman wanted. The magic was potent, but it was not all-knowing.

Dreams change.

He had waited, but she had not come for him. He had accepted her as his Champion, displaying his confidence in her before all the others and it meant nothing. He had left her friends unpunished, left the portal to Underground open and yet she had hated him when she first arrived. He could not offer her beauty, bravery was something to be taken for granted, and for all the best will in the world, he could not promise to always place her above all others. Kings did not have that luxury.

He was beginning to wonder if he had anything to offer at all.

On that thought, they stepped into a cavern filled with light. Jareth narrowed his eyes against the glare and as his vision adjusted he could make out a sword sheathed in black and iridescent blue hanging in the center of the room. A matching dagger floated beside it. A snort behind him had him turning to see her eyeing the weaponry with amusement. She saw him watching her and gestured toward the glow.

"Slight dramatic overkill," she explained.

He sighed.

Very practical.

Assuming based on the colors that the weaponry was his, he reached for the sword hilt. Energy tingled along his nerve endings and the light caressed his fingers. Then the sword was falling into his hand as if custom made for him. Which it had been. Forged by magic to be perfectly balanced, it was indestructible by any means physical or magical, catastrophes like the War of Destruction notwithstanding.

The blinding glow faded when he claimed the dagger and he heard a feminine grunt and turned to see a similar set of weapons chased in her colors lying on a small table previously hidden by the glow. He regarded the weapons in his hands suspiciously and wondered if the magic was trying to make a point.

Their armor had sheathe fastenings and the weapons settled into place with an eerie familiarity. With an apparent lack of awe or regard for the history behind the blades, Sarah fastened hers to her armor without ceremony and looked up expectantly. She had, he decided, no sense of adventure. Which, given her history, was peculiar indeed.

He was about to tell her that when they were engulfed in a heatless white light and whisked away.


	15. Chapter 15

Well, Sarah thought philosophically, she had gotten his attention.

In fact, he was still glaring at her when the light dumped two warhorses, one semi-mortal, and one Goblin King in a forest glade somewhere between god-knows-where and the middle-of-nowhere. The aforementioned Goblin King placed his hands on his hips and elevated his glare from exasperated to seriously put out.

"You have forgotten your dreams, Sarah," he complained.

She raised an eyebrow," This wasn't in any of my dreams. You should know," she pointed out.

He tossed his head, looking for all the world like a Sidhe version of his warhorse. Sarah stared at him, amused by the thought. When he proceeded to stamp around in an annoyed circle, she bit her lip to keep from laughing. Spoiled brat.

Cute though.

"Where is the girl who played out the story of the Labyrinth to an invisible audience? Where is the dreamer who dreamed so strongly she called me to her, pulled me into the world Above?"

Regret for that lost innocence filled her, but the truth was the truth.

"She grew up, Jareth,"Sarah said simply.

Fear flashed in his eyes and she wished it was all as simple as it had been back then.

"You don't have to worry," she said quietly," I know what's at stake. I'll help any way that I can. Whether that means being your Champion or being the Goblin Queen, I'll do it. You don't have to promise me anything."

She wasn't sure what response she expected, but appalled silence wasn't it.

"How...self-sacrificing," he said tightly.

She winced. "Not really. I have friends in the Goblin Kingdom, and you wouldn't have arranged for me to have all this magic if it wasn't important. I may not believe in fairy tales anymore, but I don't want to see the Goblin Kingdom destroyed. Am I right to assume there's more at stake than just the Goblin Kingdom?"

He had shifted so that a shadow fell across his face, veiling his eyes. But she saw him nod finally.

"The mortal realm as well?" she asked.

He raised his hands in a gesture indicating lack of knowledge. No matter. She had her answer. He had his as well, but from the slump in his shoulders, it was not the one he wanted. If she could have given him that answer, she would have, but she could not lie. She did not know him, and she no longer loved with the abandon of a child. Worse, she knew her own weaknesses. The thought that his love was based on gratitude would eat away at her, wash away the confidence she had worked so hard to build. If he thought her temper tantrums as a child were bad, they were nothing compared to the angry, bitter woman she would become.

Sarah had already met that woman once or twice, in the bathroom mirror.

If only she knew where to go from here. She would probably marry him. There was a good chance she could love him. But it was too soon to know anything and she was forced to admit his own vulnerability. For all her mortal dreams, he was the romantic. That look of uncertainty in the bauble, right before they danced, had been real. He had wanted her love and her admiration, as badly as she had wanted his. They had simply been too far out of step with each other.

She had been too young to give him what he needed. He had been too hurt to understand it wasn't the kind of love that would last. But she refused to leave him with nothing. Not if the only cost was her pride.

"She loved you," she said evenly.

His head jerked up, his hair falling across his face in a wild tangle.

"Spoiled, little, Sarah," she said softly. "She truly loved you. With all the passion and innocence a fifteen year old is capable of feeling. You were right to let her go, it would never have survived an adult reality, but she loved you. It was real. "

There was a moment of silence." Why are telling me this?" he demanded.

Not to hurt him. God, she hoped it wasn't to hurt him. But she had had ten years to mourn lost dreams. She wanted him to know he had been loved, even if it was only in a dream.

"I thought it might mean something to you," she said quietly.

She listened to him breathe softly, then his shoulders straightened and when he stepped out of the shadows, she did not recognize the man watching her with cool amusement.

"Why ever would you think that?' the Goblin King asked mildly.

Then he turned and walked away.


	16. Chapter 16

Jareth made it just past the edge of the forest before realizing he could not leave Sarah alone. In spite of the Dragon she wore, she had no training with blade or magic. There were dangers it was too soon to expect her to face. Dropping to his knees with a groan, he cursed himself for a fool.

He had tried so hard to get her to see him as something other than a villain and with one thoughtless remark he let his temper dictate the rules of engagement. Sarah had made a passing acquaintance with it when she had challenged him with her flippant remark about cake. Even then, in spite of his sudden awareness that she might actually succeed, that Toby and the solution he represented might be lost, Jareth's reactions had been tempered by the knowledge that she was a child. He had intended to scare her, not kill her.

The rules of the Labyrinth dictated there always be a way out.

He knew he was avoiding the issue, but dwelling on the folly of his own actions kept him focused. Kept him from going where he did not wish to go. Kept him from hearing the truth in her words when she told him that the child had loved him...and the woman no longer believed in fairy tales. Was she daft? She was living a bloody fairy tale. Complete with dragons, and princes, and crowns for the taking.

But that was not what she had meant.

He should have followed her. At the very least, he should have given her a hint, a reason to think favorably about him as she was growing up. Instead, he had told himself that he wanted to give her time to be sure. Time to love as mortals loved if that was what she needed. Time to learn her own heart. He had wanted her love to be a choice grown from a woman's need, not warped and twisted by the betrayal of childish innocence.

He had told himself that she would find him.

He could see now that he had not left her with enough to understand. He should have returned sooner, perhaps with a gift on her eighteenth birthday. Something to tantalize her with possibility. At the very least, he should have reminded her that some dreams can come true. In his fear of what he would find, he had let the years slip away. He could not even blame it on Sidhe carelessness. He had been aware of the passage of time.

He had been afraid to discover she had outgrown him.

Now it would appear she had done just that. Would she have let him go so completely if he done anything different? Could he have earned a place in her heart if he had caught her before her dreams changed? She had seen something in that story, some truth or combination of truth and intuition that led her to him. The magic had been real. The dream had been real. He had thought after the confrontation in the Junkyard that she was old enough for her dream to reflect the wants of the woman she was becoming. But perhaps, in spite of her willingness to leave behind the toys of her youth, she had not been grown up enough.

Perhaps he had only been sufficient for the dreams of the child.

If he were able, he would send her another crystal dream. Unfortunately, his presence in the last one would taint the magic. There would be no way to prevent his own wants from taking over and warping it to his desire. It would prove nothing. Sadly, he had achieved what he had set out to do as King, though his aim for the man had fallen short. She had agreed to stay, and in the end, that was the most important thing. He had always known what he was risking.

There was not much time left.

In the face of encroaching Despair, the Labyrinth had been forced to rely heavily on what dreams it could find. Sarah's belief in the Underground had been a potent source of power and the Labyrinth had drawn on it freely. But the very act of her declaring independence from that which she believed controlled her, the fact that she had fought her way beyond the role society would have assigned her, had likely been the very thing accelerating the changes in the Labyrinth. The structure and conflict of her life had worked it into every conscious and subconscious moment of her life, and that very conflict had given the Labyrinth continued form. She might no longer believe in fairy tales, but Sarah believed in the Labyrinth and the Goblin kingdom, and she had ever been a strong dreamer.

He had told her true all those years ago.

He could be cruel.

He had not expected to find a queen beneath the skin of a spoiled child. She has amused him, and her imagination had delighted him. He had planned to use her and in providing her with the adventure she sought, he would have given fair value for the power her dreams provided. It had been naught but an entertainment, a brief return to the days when the children of Danaan had walked freely Above and mingled with the sons and daughters of Man.

Was there another with the strength to wear the crown he would not have played such desperate games with the Labyrinth all those years ago. His mother assumed he had done it for love. His grandfather had looked at Jareth with a speculative expression that made him suspect the High King had more of an idea what Jareth had intended. In truth, that cursed crystal had been a mistake of monumental proportions. He should have heeded the warning written between the lines of the book the Labyrinth sent Above.

Love the girl, indeed.

Childish dreams and nonsense. Until she had looked at him with her heart in her eyes and his own responded. He had warned her, but oh how he wished she had taken what he had offered. Her fate had been sealed the moment she had forced him to acknowledge the woman she could become. Her bravery, her loyalty, and even her affronted sense of justice had shone like a beacon and as much as Jareth wanted her love, the Goblin King required her service.

If the price was her hatred, so be it.

It was no easy thing he demanded from her, to leave her friends and family to fight a war not her own. Even should they be victorious, it would be centuries before the danger was truly passed. Every day in the early years would be a hardship. Death was only one of the risks, and if she truly had outgrown him, they would be excruciatingly lonely years. Jareth swallowed tightly as the obvious solution occurred to him.

They would need caravan guards and strong magic users once the trade routes were his. Several of the young men who had offered to be his Champion were skilled with both arms and magic. Most would have unmarried sisters, family obligations being the most common reason for their willingness to Offer. Before this, he could not have risked inviting daughters of Earth to settle, not with the Desert so unstable and the balance holding it back so precarious. With Sarah's stabilizing influence however, perhaps he now had something to offer desperate young men.

There was land a plenty in the Goblin kingdom, and there would be more once the Desert started to retreat. It would take courage and a willingness to face hardship, but homes could be wrested from the Kingdom for those brave enough to consider it. Especially if he could sweeten the offer. With Sarah to add respectability, he could open the castle for regular balls and other events. It would be nothing like the Seelie Court of course, but more than enough. Enough to enable young men and women to meet and get to know one another, he thought bleakly.

A soft chime disturbed his thoughts and when something cool coalesced in his palm, he opened the curled fingers of his left hand to stare blankly at the heavy, ornate ring resting there. He peered at the face in confusion. The ring was designed to be worn over gloves at formal functions and he recognized the design as that of an official Seal of State. The Arms were unfamiliar and it took him a moment to realize they were his own Arms, granted by magic, the symbol the Challenge awarded to the task of Selflessness.

He didn't understand. The Seal was the last item to be won, and he had seen nothing that came close to the tasks listed in the written histories. How...? Before he could complete the thought, a shaft of alarm came through from the stallion. Jareth jerked to his feet, ring forgotten. He was barely aware of vanishing it to his saddlebags for safekeeping, his attention focused of the images pouring into his mind.

The mare was frantic.

Jareth had an image of Sarah slamming her fists against open air, her expression alarmed although not panicked. Yet. Jareth took off running, trying to absorb the rest of the picture. There was no sense of sound coming from Sarah and considering that the stallion was clearly transmitting the angry screams of the mare, whatever barrier had trapped Sarah obviously affected the movement of sound as well as human bodies. Jareth tried to recall if he had ever heard of anything that hunted like this.

By the time he was halfway across the meadow, he was hearing the mare with two sets of ears, his own and those of the stallion. As soon as he thought the thought, the stallion stopped transmitting. Grateful, but suddenly aware of how much more ferocious she seemed now that he no longer had the stallion's point of view tempering his impression of her anger, Jareth covered the last few yards and avoided the pacing mare only to crash into the barrier.

He reached out his hands cautiously.

From the other side of the barrier Sarah regarded him relatively calmly, although he could see the uncertainty and fear in her eyes. The mare laid her ears back and stamped her clawed hoof at him, a clear command if ever he had seen one. He frowned at her.

"If you must persist in these hysterics, I trust you have the courtesy to block your thoughts when there is nothing she can do to alleviate your fear."

The mare snapped her fangs at him and Sarah rolled her eyes. Jareth paused and considered that reaction with interest. Either Sarah was channeling her mount's emotions with suspicious ease, or the two were able to communicate complex information independent of emotional influence. He wondered if it was something specific to the mare but the stallion did not comment on the half-formed thought. Jareth definitely got incoming annoyance and the clear impression that the stallion thought he was wasting time on foolishness that could be indulged when the mare was less likely to kick.

Sarah turned abruptly, obviously hearing something Jareth could not. He watched with concern as a stone table shimmered into existence. Two common chalices rested on the top and he was puzzling over their appearance when the obvious answer occurred to him. He resisted the urge to kick at the barrier and vent his rage in an avian scream. This was madness. The Challenge was the Challenge and it had been so since the dawn of recorded time. It was etched in stone so old no one remembered the original language.

The tests were always the same and always taken in the same order. Why then had the Binding chosen to gift him with the token of a test he was still not certain how he had passed and now this, the sixth test out of order and without...

Jareth paused and looked around.

Where was the companion?

Worse, he had not done more than describe the intent of the test to her. They had two Tests before this one and he had spent his time telling her everything he knew about the next trial in the sequence. She might not even know what she was supposed to do other than in the most general terms. With an echo of Sarah's childish "It's not fair!" recalled most vividly, he glared at the two chalices.

For all their apparent licentiousness, Sidhe had a rigid moral code when it came to carnal pleasure. Given their innate sensuality, that moral code was not precisely the same as that held by those Above, but it existed. The sixth test was designed to test both the will of the Champion to resist temptation and the innate understanding that consent while drugged or under the influence of magic was not consent. His own use of a tainted peach on Sarah did not offend those morals, as he had never had the intent to do more than distract her.

Had he taken her to his bed it would have been a different story.

Jareth did not understand why the companion had not shown up yet. Always the artificial temptation was provided, even on those Challenges where the Champion did not quest alone. Jareth had assumed that was part of the seduction. The companion joined the Champion a day or two before the test, giving the Champion time to consider the entity that had been crafted specifically to appeal to his desires. Aside from any sense of curiosity or responsibility that might develop, if the person trying to seduce one was not real, how much greater the temptation when deep inside the Champion knew no one could be hurt?

Jareth had been dreading seeing what form her desires would take.

He narrowed his eyes when she approached one of the chalices and the cup began to glow amber. With a sense of shock he watched as the cup's companion glowed blue. Sarah flicked a startled gaze toward him, then reached for the blue cup. As soon as she touched it, the color bled to amber. Sarah shifted her weight back on her heels and regarded the first cup that now glowed blue. It didn't take her more than a second to understand the implication.

Both cups faded back to silver as she took a step back and considered each cup in turn. Words shimmered on the rim of each and Jareth could just make out the modern English characters etched in metal. He knew what each said without having to read them. The cup on the left was the Cup of Health and Wellbeing. The one on the right, the Cup of Repressed Desire.

More literally, one was a healing draught and the other a powerful aphrodisiac.

The Champion was supposed to drink from the Cup of Health. In addition to healing any injuries that might prevent the Champion from engaging in any illicit activity, the draught increased sensitivity to physical stimulus to an almost painful level. Between consenting lovers, it enhanced physical pleasure. When denied, it could drive one to the brink of agony.

She met his gaze through the barrier and he frowned slowly at the odd look in her eyes. She turned slowly and he breathed a sigh of relief as she made her way reluctantly toward the Cup on the left. He had been so focused on whether she knew the right answer, that he had not considered the consequences of her action. It wasn't until she glanced back at him, a flicker of anxiety in her eyes that he remembered that he would be forced to drink from the second cup. Fear sliced coldly through his stomach and nausea churned its way up his throat.

No.

One, twice, thrice, no.

He could not. Her power might be his equal in strength, but her body was not adapted to its use, or her mind its application. There was no way she could control him. He felt his breath shorten as he panicked, his body tensing in defensive fury. He could not drink it. He would...

He shied from the thought of what he might do.

His mind raced. There was nowhere to go. There was no place he could magic himself that he could not magic himself back. And in his drugged state, he would hunt her down to the last strand of time. From the point of the Challenge, it was up to the Champion to protect the companion from his-or her-mindless lust while ignoring their own heightened feelings of desire. Possible solutions, each as useless as the one before it, leapt forth to be examined and discarded. He was even considering magicking himself to the castle in forfeit when the blisters on his hands-a legacy of the caves- suggested a solution.

Cold iron.

He turned the thought over slowly. Chains of iron would burn, even through padding, but would not be fatal. He would be weakened come morning, and the pain would be extreme, but it could be done. He might not be able to touch the cursed stuff, but he could create it easily enough. He felt himself slump with relief. A solution.

He raised his head to look at Sarah and found her looking at him with an unreadable look on her face. He thought he understood the fear and regret until her hand moved and he realized he didn't understand at all.

She drank from the wrong cup.


	17. Chapter 17

She had been expecting it to be sweet.

The contents of the cup slipped down her throat with the consistency of melted ice cream. As bitter as burnt coffee, the taste had her shuddering as it warmed her stomach. The warmth spread slowly, turning her muscles languid and weak. The cup rolled off the tips of her fingers and all she could do was watch it go. In seeming slow motion, Jareth followed its path with disbelieving eyes. She drew in a deep breath, the air hitching in her chest.

Please let her have made the right decision.

The voice in her head was silent and the mare stood as if petrified, an onyx statue with eyes flaring red with fury. Sarah had tried to relay a question to Jareth, but the moment the mare queried the stallion, the connection in Sarah's head broke off as if sliced in two. From the flurry of kicks that pounded the barrier, the interference had not been voluntary and Sarah had watched in silent awe as massive hindquarters rose and fell, the ground itself shaking from the impacts against solidified air. By the time the mare had worn out her fury, Sarah had made her decision.

She could live without the Goblin Crown.

She had almost decided to follow the rules and prove to the magic she had the nerve to do whatever it took. Almost. It had been the horror in Jareth's eyes that had changed her mind. Bitterly she wondered if it was her own arrogance that had rewritten the game. Jareth and Jiann had both gone over the Trials expected of a Champion and both of them had clearly warned her about the temptations of the sixth Trial. Sarah had waved aside Jiann's concerns with a mumbled comment about learning that lesson when she was fifteen. She hadn't wanted to admit her private conviction that a magical construct would be of little temptation. Not when her flesh and blood dream lover was lurking in the vicinity.

She wasn't a virgin. The boys of high school had not compared favorably to Jareth's Goblin King image, but, as she had finally realized, they weren't supposed to. Angry at the manipulation and despising the sense of following a path being dictated by the Labyrinth, she had set out to lose her virginity in the most spectacular fashion possible. She had been determined not to settle for fumbling hands in the back of a car, or a drunken decision she would regret the next morning.

Sarah Williams knew nothing if not how to prepare for a part.

Her first semester of college she devoured books on human sexuality. She took care of her hymen with a surreptitiously ordered vibrator, adamant that her first sexual experience was not going to be ruined by a meaningless aspect of biology. There had also been a sense of the illicit, a secret thrill as she did away with the coveted virginity that meant so much to everyone except her. Screw being the Good Wife. Nor was she Prudence Goodheart. She was going to live by her own rules.

Unfortunately, she built her expectations on half remembered sensations and was disappointed when the promise of that single dance never materialized. It had been pleasant. Moderately so on one occasion, but every time she looked into her lover's eyes, there was something missing. That was when she began to suspect Jareth had offered her something unobtainable in that dream, because no matter how hard she looked, with friend or stranger, the eyes were hollow by comparison. Even in the dark, it made no difference. The emptiness was always there. She could feel it.

She might have beaten the Labyrinth, but Jareth had his revenge.

One night stands had quickly palled. Sarah saw no point in wasting time or energy on something that ultimately left her feeling unsatisfied. She tried trust games, thinking the spice of fear might be what was missing. She hadn't even gotten the handcuffs on before she was kicking her would-be lover off her bed. She revisited the one-night stand a couple of times over the years hoping something had changed. If anything, it was worse. The short, physical release only emphasized a deeper frustration. It was as if her body hungered for something it knew should be possible and refused to be satisfied with carrot sticks when cheesecake was what it wanted.

She finally tried counseling. Her psychiatrist had been intrigued by her take on the symbolism of the Labyrinth, but added only that if a lover never satisfied her, then she would never let herself commit completely, and thus would not be disappointed when he left her. It had made sense, but she had been forced to stop going when he started pushing her to let go of her belief that the Labyrinth was real. She knew it was real, the same way she knew which way a fire was going to blow. If she started mistrusting herself on that deep a level, she'd lose it all.

She had decided she'd rather be crazy than dead.

It was that same instinct that guided her now. Not because she was worried about the consequences if he drank the Cup of Desire. The thought of Jareth out of control and focused solely on her had her throbbing more fiercely than the most experienced of her lovers had ever managed. The want was physical, and part of her brain kept screaming at her to do it. To take what she wanted. Jareth would forgive her. It was what she was supposed to do. And god, did she want to do it.

All she had to do was drink.

He could never blame her. The decision to resist would ultimately be taken away from her. The drug itself would drive him over the edge and she would not be able to stop him - not with her hands and not with her magic. She would bear no responsibility at all. They would pass the test and she would have what she wanted.

If she was willing to destroy Jareth in the process.

There had never, not once, been a hint of sexual threat during their entire confrontation in the labyrinth. Awareness, yes, coupled with a raw sensuality she suspected was bred to the bone. But no threat. Ever. Even when he was trying to intimidate, he kept a rigidly proper distance that was too encompassing to be anything but a sense of honor that emanated from the core of who he was. That sort of behavior could be faked, but the edge of threat, the awareness that he would if he could, could not. He had respected her and that respect had been reflected in every line of his body.

He would never forgive himself.

Her own unwillingness to abdicate responsibility aside, she suspected that Jareth thought he loved her. At the very least, he had loved whatever it was she had represented. To force him to take, in the most hurtful way possible, that which he had begged her to give, would rip him apart. No crown was worth that. Luckily, for her, it had never been about the crown. She did not have to be Queen to help him and even should she lose, Leann herself had chosen a Challenge that would not strip the Goblin Throne from him. Sarah wasn't absolutely certain that he would see it that way; it was his life and his Kingdom she was deliberately failing. But that was the role of a Champion, wasn't it? To stand for the Monarch. To represent the good, and the just, and the moral.

And if it wasn't, it should be.


	18. Chapter 18

They had lost.

Jareth stared numbly at the empty cup rolling across the ground and tried to think past that thought. They had lost. He had lost...everything. Sarah was mumbling and as the cup came to rest against his booted foot he realized that the barrier was gone. Sarah shook her head sharply, then shuddered. He couldn't find it in himself to move. She had forfeited.

Deliberately.

For one blinding moment, the legendary fury of his ancestors swept through him. All she had needed to do was trust him. A few moments more and the chains would have been conjured. She had not even given him time to try and communicate a solution. He felt his teeth lengthen as his body started to shift. Damn her mortal impatience. A snarl escaped and he glared at the woman before him.

She had damned them all.

Feathers threaded through his hair and he shook with the effort of maintaining his shape. Fool. Thrice damned fool he had been to trust a mortal. All for naught. The goblins, the Labyrinth, all lost because she could not bring herself to see anything in him worth trusting. He watched as she fell to her knees, body starting to shake with the first flush of the drugged cup. Three steps brought him to stand in front of her and he stared down at her bent head coldly.

"Do you know what you have done?" he demanded, his voice harsh as he forced the words from a throat caught between speech and avian cry.

She did not seem to hear him.

He dropped to his knees and gripped her shoulders tightly. He shook her once, sharply, to get her attention. Her head tilted back and he found himself staring into eyes so dilated the color had retreated near completely. The look of hunger on her face was one he had dreamed of, and it was a bitter truth that it was not real. A harsh laugh caught in his chest. He may not have possessed a full measure of glamour, but given the time shift between Underground and Above, he had held to his one grand illusion for more years than she had lived a mortal life. She had no idea how long he had waited. The loss left him cold and broken inside.

"Why could you not have trusted me Sarah?" he heard himself ask, his throat tight with anguish. "All you had to do was trust me...just a little."

She blinked, then frowned. For a moment he thought she would answer him, then her gaze shifted and he flinched as she raised a hand to his face. Long denied hunger flared as she brushed her fingertips along his face and traced his lower lip. He felt his eyes bleed to avian gold, something any Sidhe should be able to disguise with simple glamour. Instead of recoiling she gasped slightly, then moaned and arched her back, bringing her body into the curve of his own. For one moment he possessed everything he had ever wanted sheltered within his grasp.

Then she kissed him, her lips bittersweet with desire, and the dream shattered once again.

It wasn't real.

It never had been.

Closing his eyes, he turned his head away from her. She shifted to brush her lips along his throat and he wanted to fling her away from him. Bind her hand and foot until she returned to her right senses; something she would not do until the Trial was over. It was insult to injury when the prize was already lost, but such was the way of magic. She was his Champion. Her loss was his loss and the Trial was not over until they both drank. He opened his eyes to glare at the Cup of Health still sitting on the stone alter. A thought brought it to him, and he stared into the softly glowing liquid as the cup rematerialized in his hand.

It still glowed blue.

Swallowing the draught within, he waited for the fog to descend, for their armor and battle steeds to disappear. While he waited, he watched with resignation as various minor injuries healed themselves, his skin repairing itself and smoothing in moments. A flush of energy swept through him and every nerve tingled.

The Sidhe court often made use of the healing draught to increase endurance and sensitivity between lovers. Jareth himself had never felt comfortable enough with any of his partners to risk the potential loss of control. There had always been that worry, the understanding that his performance as a lover was as subject to scrutiny as the rest of his life. Any race as sensual and as long-lived as the Sidhe obtained a certain level of skill as they matured, but without the edge that glamour would have given, Jareth was limited to the tools handed any male by nature. Some of his partners might have been willing to indulge indulge, but the hypersensitivity created by the draught was something he had never felt he could risk.

His reputation was such that he had never lacked for companionship when he desired it. The ladies of the court might not have any wish to wear the Goblin Crown, but they had been warm and willing when it came to their beds. They had been skilled and enjoyable, and there had been no regrets on either side in the morning. However, as he felt Sarah's least movement across his skin like a shout he found a hunger waking.

He wanted the freedom to fail.

He wanted to share the draught with her and see where it took them. Not because he had to prove himself. Not with any expectations. Just the freedom to explore and the freedom to lose control. Few of his lovers had been friends and even then there had always been a distance.

Most recently he could blame his focus on Sarah. Since meeting her he had had no time for a flesh and blood lover. Between the needs of the Labyrinth, the goblins, and doing what he could to shore up the defenses against the Desert, it was all he could do to find time to shift Above and check that Sarah was well. Then he needed to travel the strands of time once he returned so as not to have been gone too long.

He suspected Sarah did not realize that while only a handful of years had passed Above, decades had come and gone Underground. If his grasp of time had not been stronger than most Sidhe, he could never have managed being in two places at once. As it was, he had lived two lifetimes, waiting for Sarah to claim him. It was well that Sidhe had years to burn.

Even so, his needs had changed all those years ago after seeing what was in her eyes. True desire. A want that arose from her very soul, not just what he could offer for the evening. It had been in the room of stairs, when she had finally reached the child, he had begun to understand what he was losing. After two centuries of loneliness, was it any wonder he had held to opportunity with tooth, claw, and magic?

Sarah had taken advantage of his inattention to work free of his grasp. Her hands explored his body with an unabashed curiosity and her murmured suggestions heated his blood even as the graphic nature of her fantasies fired his imagination. Her words wrapped silken bonds around him and he let her push him to the ground as a thought occurred to him.

They had lost.

There was nothing to stop him from taking what he wanted.

Why should he not salvage what he could? For so long he had denied himself due to fear of rejection and fear of what that rejection might do to the Labyrinth. Now however, all his hopes for his own future were in ashes at his feet. Burned to the ground, the wreckage strewn with salt. Why should he not accept what she was offering? She would not say him nay, and none would blame him. Not in their hearts of hearts. Not for a mortal.

He looked into eyes glazed with drugged passion and cringed.

So easy to fall to temptation and betrayal. To easy to tell himself that the words she whispered were real and listen to the voice that told him that she had betrayed him first. The thought shocked him, that such anger could lurk in his own soul. A part of him railed in fury that she owed him this, when in truth, she owed him nothing. She had promised him nothing and given permission for less. It was loneliness that had warped him and created this monster. Sarah deserved better from him.

He deserved better.

He was not the villain of her childhood. Nor was he the pathetic exile some of the court imagined him to be. He had chosen his path freely. If it had led to an end he found bitter, what was done, was done. He must live with the consequences. If he did what his monster urged, he would not be able to live with the man he would become. He would rather lose her than become something other than the man he thought himself to be. That man might be lonely, but at least he had honor.

If that was all he could claim, then so be it.


	19. Chapter 19

She must have fallen off the firetruck, Sarah thought fuzzily. Hit the pavement hard and been run over by three police cars and an ambulance. She started to rub her eyes, then stopped in surprise. Her hands were tied. She peered at the rope binding her wrists, bringing her arms into reluctant focus as she blinked eyelids that felt bruised and swollen. Muscles protested as she struggled into a sitting position, gasping as the skin on her thighs burned. Careful bandages wrapped her upper legs to her knees. No memory assaulted her as she cautiously poked the material, noting that except for underwear she didn't recognize and a shirt that looked suspiciously like Jareth's, she was naked. 

She stared at her exposed flesh uneasily; a cold feeling trickling down her spine. What had she done? She looked for her armor and froze as she found Jareth sitting on his gear a few feet away, watching silently. Her unease deepened, the blank spot in her memory sparking a sick feeling of helpless anger. The watchful expression on his face made it worse.

"What happened?"

Her voice was hoarse, as if she'd been chewing smoke.

Jareth studied her for a long moment, expression distant, almost detached. "You forfeited."

"I don't mean..."she cut herself short as her voice cracked and rose, forcing herself to take a deep, careful breath. "I meant, what happened last night?"

His expression shifted slightly, then froze. He stood with an abrupt motion and it was only when he stepped toward her that she noticed the cloth gripped tightly in his hands. Even then the observation was only in passing, more because the fabric drew her attention to his white knuckles and tightly clenched hands. Startled, her eyes darted back to his face and she took an involuntary step backward at the fury in his face. His eyes had shifted to gold, and they glittered hotly as he halted just out of arm's reach and stared down at her.

She flinched when he threw the cloth at her feet.

"You forfeited," he said bitterly, as if that answered everything.

A gesture with his hand and her wrists were free.

She reached reluctantly for the crumpled fabric. The cloth was warm and curled sensuously around her hands as she unfurled it. The black cloak was chased in blue and clearly sized for someone Jareth's height.Disbelief edged with anger was her immediate reaction. He had passed the Challenge? Her fingers tightened, and for a few moments, the only emotions she could recognize were rage and jealousy.

This was fair?

She was the one placed at risk and he passed?

Her vision blurred oddly and for a split second, every sound seemed to press in around her. Then the world snapped back into focus and she looked up to find Jareth watching her, expression shocked. Before she could react he stepped forward and grasped her chin in his hand and forced her head back.

Confusion melded with rage and came roaring back. Her vision shifted again.

"Your eyes..." Jareth murmured softly, his voice caught between surprise and fascination.

She grabbed for his hand, intending to wrench her head away and he gasped in pain as Magefire roared across his skin. He spun away from her, going to one knee. For one shocked moment she stared down at his bent head uncertain what she had done. A shudder seemed to ripple across his shoulders, and when he looked up, his mis-matched eyes had bled to gold.

Her lip curled in instinctive response.

He stood slowly and took a cautious step backwards. Her anger spun itself out, lashing back and forth as her emotions whipsawed from one extreme to the other. Ten years and her anger with Jareth had shifted and altered, but had never burned itself out. Now it seemed to take on a life of its own, and for the first time she felt her rage like a living thing. It had the potential to control her, if she did not control herself. Her skin felt tight, her bones ached, and she was tired.

So very tired.

Rage died leaving only bleakness behind. A gust of wind caught the edge of Jareth's new cloak, wrapping the fabric briefly around her legs. A stab of regret so sharp it was physically painful tightened the muscles of her chest and restricted her breathing. She wanted to be happy for him, but all she could see was her own failure.

"I'm sorry,"she said finally.

Sorry she couldn't be glad he had saved himself. Sorry he had gotten stuck with a mortal Champion who didn't know enough to beat the damn rules. Sorry she was just a firefighter, not a warrior hero. Sorry he would spend the rest of his life married to a woman he hated. Sorry he would have no choice but to stand before the Court, all of them watching him, all of them judging him by her failure. But mostly she was sorry for herself, because she had just realized that after everything, somewhere deep inside she had believed she still had a chance for a happy ending.

His eyes dropped to the cloak in her hands and his expression gave way to something that looked almost like despair.

"Why could you not trust me, Sarah?" he asked quietly.

The sheer absurdity of the question took a minute to register. His face tightened at her incredulous expression, but he did not look away. She just continued to stare, unable to get past her own disbelief. Was he serious? How was she even supposed to begin to answer that question?

He...

He...

He was right.

She didn't trust him. Oh...not about what he might have done. She didn't need a cloak to tell her he had not taken advantage of her. Her need to know what happened was a completely separate issue. But she hadn't gone out of her way to ask his opinion before making her decision last night. They could have tried to find a way to communicate. Maybe it would have failed too. The magic had been fairly insistent, but she had not even tried.

Sarah frowned.

Why hadn't she tried?

Instinct wanted to say it was because she was the Champion. Because she was trained to make life-threatening decisions in a split second. But that would be a lie. She was also trained to gather as much information as possible before making that decision.

She hesitated at she struggled to define the nature of her distrust. The men she worked with, her fellow firefighters, she'd trust them with her life. She knew she could count on them to back her up in a fire situation. But not all of them were friends, and some would make her life a living hell if she ever made the mistake of revealing anything personal. They were co-workers. She could trust them to do their jobs. That job just happened to include keeping her butt from being barbequed.

Jareth...

She studied him emotionlessly. He had kept up with her in the caves in spite of his allergic reaction to the presence of raw iron ore. He had the ability to back her up, but it was never his physical ability she mistrusted. When all was said and done, she didn't understand his motives. She didn't understand what drove him and she had no idea how his world defined what was right.

The rules were simple for a firefighter. ABC. Cover your own ass, your buddy's ass, and lastly, the company's ass. Straightforward and to the point. Nobody gets left to burn.

If there were rules for being a Champion, Jareth had forgotten to tell her. She was making them up as she went along. And that was the heart of the matter. Who had made the decision last night? Sarah...or the Champion? Rape fantasy aside-and any good physiatrist will say that rape fantasies, healthy ones anyways, were about being wanted. Desired beyond reason. True, options were taken away. But only insofar as it allowed the freedom to do what one wanted to do without having to pay the price in guilt or consequence.

Fantasy was not reality.

She might not remember what she had done last night, but she had no doubt it had been ugly. If even half of what Jiann had said was close to accurate, nothing in what she had wanted last night would have been about Jareth. It would have been selfish to the point of nihilism and just as destructive. If Jareth had been under the influence, it would not have been about desire. He would have used her body until he broke it, and the fact she was female would simply have been convenient. He wouldn't have known who she was, and he wouldn't have cared.

Until he woke up.

She had been unwilling to pay that price for either of them, not for a crown that didn't matter. But who had made the decision? And why had she not trusted Jareth enough to ask his opinion?

The answer, when it occurred to her, was not reassuring. Oddly though, it was an answer she could understand. It was even an answer she could rely on.

"I trust you to be the Goblin King," she said finally, refusing to back down from the pain and anger in his eyes.

How strange that she could accept everything that might ask of her. She had resented her mother's career for so many years and now look at her. Champion to a man who literally could not put her first, and obligated to do the same thing in return. It startled her to realize that this was true, but it was. Last night, she had put her own needs, and Jareth's before those of the Goblin Crown...but only because she could. And she had been the one to make the decision. Not Jareth. Not the Goblin King. Sarah Williams, Champion, had made that decision, not because Jareth could not.

But because, for some things, he should not.

She didn't want to follow her next thought to its logical conclusion, but hiding from the truth never changed it, or made it go away. In the end, maybe that's what Sarah had been to him. Perhaps that was why he had never come for her. Fifteen year old Sarah would live forever, dancing endlessly in a crystal memory. An innocent girl he could pamper and protect from the Goblin King. Maybe silly little Sarah really had been his Heart's Desire. Jareth's heart-felt protest over what the Goblin King demanded of him and the people around him.

A fantasy.


	20. Chapter 20

Jareth was quiet for the next several hours.

Even the horses seemed subdued as they stepped almost silently through the increasingly dark forest Jareth had selected as their destination. Sarah had initially welcomed the time to brood over her thoughts. The breeze had been lightly scented with the healthy smell of green growing things and the dappled sunlight filtering through the upper storey of the forest was golden and soothing. It wasn't until the breeze caressing her face started biting with evening chill that she noticed the trees had closed ranks and were crowding the trail. The sun had shifted past afternoon and beneath the scent of greenery lurked another smell she could not identify.

Jareth glanced her and drew his sword.

Three years of fencing in high school and a handful of women's self defense classes had not prepared her for this. Cursing Jareth, Jiann, and her own blasted impulses she followed suit. Beneath her, the mare was tense and her lips curled away from her fangs as her nostrils flared. The stud was glaring into the shadows ahead of them. Unlike true horses both animals kept their necks low, the plating on their faces and chests presenting a formidable target to unseen enemies.

The stud snorted warily.

When the scream sounded, Sarah had not even realized she had booted the mare into a leap forward until the mare slammed chest first into the stallion Jareth had kneed into her path. The enraged hiss the mare made was anything but equine and the stud rolled slightly frantic eyes back toward his rider. Jareth danced him away from the mare's teeth, but kept all four hooves planted square in Sarah's path. When she met his eyes, more puzzled then angry, she felt a chill grip the base of her neck as avian eyes glared back.

She had been content to let him ride in silence while she mulled over her thoughts. He had been so quiet she hadn't really been paying attention to his body language. Now, looking at his remote expression, not to mention the ruthless demand he used to keep the stud where he wanted him, she wondered if that had been a mistake.

"Jareth?"

His expression never altered as he stared at her and for one wild moment she almost sent the mare spinning out of reach. Instead, she forced herself to stay motionless when he pushed the stud forward. It wasn't the color of his eyes that made them so hard to meet she decided. It was the alien glitter. The feral ruthlessness that was almost animalistic. Almost. The difference was the intelligence-and all that implied- married to pragmatic bestial instinct.

Something deep inside turned over and she was torn between conflicting impulses. Spinal reflex recognized a predator watching her and shockingly, none of the emotions that ripped through her resembled fear. Wariness perhaps. A fierce recognition of lethality and an odd tension that curled her hands into claws and prepared to strike. And beneath it all, an odd gathering anticipation.

She had always known he wasn't human. It had never seemed to matter. The slenderness and grace that just missed being feminine had been transformed by that hint of alien into something that felt wrong to judge by human standards. During her trip through the Labyrinth she had caught glimpses of the mercurial temper and capricious nature the Sidhe were supposed to possess. Now, for the first time, she saw the rest of the legend come alive.

Cold beauty glittered with an edge that could bleed her dry. Inhuman eyes weighed and judged without compassion. Ruthless purpose wrapped his body as he sat on his stallion, black on black, dragonscale gleaming against equine armor. Alien. Gods, so alien. Nothing she understood stared at her from burning eyes.

She swallowed painfully, wishing she could regret how eerily beautiful she found him.

"Stay alive, Sarah," the Goblin King said softly.

She blinked.

Golden eyes glittered coldly. "We will save the victims if it is possible, but mark me well. You will survive." He turned his head slightly and she had the sudden thought that he knew exactly what they were about to discover. "Neither of us can be considered expendable. If the Labyrinth is to hold, we must survive."

She shifted uneasily in the saddle. He did know that firefighters didn't consider themselves expendable, right?

"This is not the time for foolish courage,"he said bluntly, his words not as disturbing as the passionless way he voiced them.

"Jareth...?"

His lip curled slightly,"Ride."

With that, he kneed the stallion into a sweeping turn and the mare thundered down the path at his heels, taking Sarah with her.

* * *

What was done was done.

It was long past and far too late for regrets.

He could twist the strands of time beyond all reason, yet he had always known he dared not rewrite destiny. Not could not. Dared not. Sarah's fate had been written in the stars by magic, and need, and the strange logic of the Labyrinth. He dared not shift the path those stars must follow.

But oh, how he had wanted to.

She would have all the pieces soon, and then they would see the nature of her forgiveness.

So she trusted him to be the Goblin King did she? How laughably ironic when she was responsible for the man he had become. His first true act as King had been the choice that had shaped the ruthless ruler he had tried so hard not to be. In truth, until she had invaded his Labyrinth, there had been no need. The Goblin Kingdom had been the perfect playground for a spoiled aristocrat with no great ambition and a powerful yet slightly unpredictable magic. But even then, the cracks had begun to show.

Red sand and insane dreaming, drifting closer every day. He had fought hard for his independence from the Court, determined as much not to be a toy for their amusement as having any true goal of saving the Underground. But even he would not have been able to avoid that final commitment for much longer. Vague plans and resentful fantasies had crystallized with brutal strength and a crippled prince of the Sidhe had been forced to become King of the Goblins in truth.

He was everything he had never wanted to be, and she had shown him the way.

There were days he could almost hate her for that.

* * *

The horses broke into a shadowed clearing, immense trees rising on either side, the lower branches sheered away, the lowest starting a good twenty-five feet from the ground. The top branches were spread wide, desperate fingers clawing for the sun, interlaced and forming a tangled roof of dying bark and heartwood. The earth was rank, barely covered by a thin bitter moss. Sarah had a brief sense of dull greens and grays, then her eye was caught by a rainbow of brilliant color.

The color was shockingly overbright and even as the mare leapt to avoid a blur of brown and jagged teeth, Sarah was caught by the whirling colors. A solid shape refused to appear and Sarah had a confused image of metal and feathers, then a blur of bright blue on black darted into the melee and her attention was yanked elsewhere. High pitched hisses and screams were joined by an avian screech that sent shudders down her spine. Primitive monkey instinct gibbered and tried to send her scrambling for the deepest, darkest hole she could find.

Something lashed toward her face and she barely ducked in time to see Jareth slash upwards with his sword. Something screamed and she almost lost her balance as the mare lurched sideways. Desperately trying to figure out what to hit, she didn't even know what she was fighting. An unfamiliar panic began to hack and gouge at her control.

Jareth didn't seem to realize she wasn't at his back. The stallion danced and ducked, the lethal flash of Jareth's sword reflecting oddly in the scattered light. Training locked her muscles as she fought competing reflexes, one trying to send her to Jareth's side, the other urging her toward whoever was bleeding and dying on the far side of the clearing.

She was going to die, she thought, vaguely astonished. Killed by training and reflex. Too inexperienced to react, too well trained to run away. The mare leapt upwards and a tail spiked with razor-edged bone whipped beneath them. Later, Sarah would remember the startled look on Jareth's face. Incomprehension shifting to shocked understanding. He turned fully toward her, ignoring his own danger. Her eyes locked with his and she read the command on his face before he even voiced it. Fall back. The mare was reacting to her unconscious command, shifting to protect the bundle of bloody feathers on the ground, when a shadow grew wings and rushed toward her.

She saw horror flash across Jareth's face, then the world fell on her. Darkness slammed into her sideways, lifting her off the mare and throwing her through the air. Oddly, she felt only a distant sense of surprise and her limbs seemed unusually graceful as her body twisted in midair. Monkey instincts keeled over in shock, but something else was rising beneath them. Something that had recognized what she faced.

Something that understood.

When she hit the ground, she landed on her feet. Inertia carried her into a backward shoulder roll she had never quite mastered until that instant in time. As if simply waiting for the right moment, her body fell into the motion as if it had always known what to do. When she came back up on her toes she was steadier than she ever remembered being, body centered, eyes fixed on her enemy. The taste of her own blood lingered on her tongue, sending shivers of motion along her bones as something twisted, and stretched...

...and woke.

Her vision flexed, colors shifting and fading. Bright hues slipped into a strange monochrome of black and white and silver. Edges and shadows leapt into focus, and she finally saw the thing she faced. Teeth the length of her forearm studded a jaw better suited to a weasel than a reptile, but that was what it looked like. A big damn reptile.

Not a dragon, she thought.

But something close. Something smaller. Faster. Meaner. Whatever it was, it was bigger than she was. Twenty feet from nose to tail and the entire spine ridged with spikes, it was equipped with too many teeth and sharp claws. The fact it had armor plating had her wondering why something so perfectly designed to survive needed so much defensive overkill.

What the hell could eat something like that?

The wing must have been what slammed into her. Even now she could see they were more vestigial than functional. This rock lizard could not fly, but it could jump and the wings gave it a midair flexibility that would be lethal. At the moment that flexibility was being used to contend with two maddened warhorses and one Sidhe warrior. It hissed and shrieked as ichor dripped from several gashes in its hide, but Sarah could see it was far from weakening.

Something snarled softly and Sarah was startled to realize it was herself.

The rock lizard hissed, head swinging uncertainly between Sarah and Jareth. She could smell its confusion. It understood the man chopping at it with a sword. Sarah did not appear to be a threat, but something in the tiny brain recognized that the nature of its enemy had changed. Silver eyes gleamed as they rolled to study her cautiously. The lizard challenged her with a rippling bugle as it swiped a hind foot toward the stallion.

Sarah noted the desperate lunge required to avoid the hooked claws and knew the horses were tiring. She did not completely understand the impulse that moved her toward the lizard, sword held easily in one hand, but she did not question or try to interfere. If this was her magic trying to save her, she was all in favor of letting it succeed. She was almost to striking range when disaster struck.

The lizard had obeyed its own instincts to keep Sarah visible. In doing so, it gave the horses an opening. The mare flashed forward and laid its shoulder open with her fangs. Instead of leaping away from her, it wrenched itself into an unexpected hop sideways. The move kept Sarah in sight, but it caught both reptile and Goblin King by surprise when the lizard actually stepped on Jareth.

Sarah did not recognize the high pitched scream of rage that issued from her own throat as she saw Jareth go down beneath hooked claws. The horses shied in atavistic reflex, but Jareth and the lizard both froze, staring at her in shock. Before the echoes of her cry had died away Sarah had leapt forward and had her sword pointed at one great eye. The lizard held itself immobile, head locked halfway down in its effort to peer at the captive pinned beneath its foot.

The wings fluttered uncertainly.

_Share?_

It was not like communication with the mare. Not words. More a combination of body language, sound, and an odd empathic overlay that clearly transmitted the lizard's confusion and uncertainty. It was angry, but it was also feeling out of its depth and sinking fast. It was young, Sarah realized suddenly. An unmated male barely into adulthood.

 _Meat? Share?_ the lizard offered hopefully.

"Mine," Sarah growled, realizing only after she said it that the words and overlay she used claimed Jareth as her mate.

Distress flowed from the lizard and Sarah could feel the conflicting impulses tearing at him. Instinct was telling him to release Jareth and retreat, but memory clearly recalled the sword in the Goblin King's hand. Anger and frustration beat at her and she shifted her gaze around the clearing in an effort to understand what had driven the creature to attack. In spite of his offer to share the spoils of the hunt, the lizard did not feel hungry.

There had been three casualties, possibly four, although the way the mare was standing between the fourth body and the lizard suggested it still lived. The note of sadness in the mare's sending confirmed that the other three were dead.

_Intruders! Egg stealers!_

The venom in the lizard's overlay had her staring at him in surprise. She did not get the impression that the lizard was highly intelligent, not the way humans judged intelligence. But it knew enough to understand what had attracted her attention, and it knew enough to resent whatever threat they had represented.

Egg stealers?

Rage blasted her, accompanied by images of panicked flight, men on horses, and death. Females dying trapped in their caves; males cut down for their teeth. Eggs trampled and smashed. Sarah grimaced. The memories had a slight flavor of age. She doubted the recent dead had been responsible, just unlucky. The lizard had only been defending his territory. Unfortunately that territory rested squarely on something that looked like a moderately well-traveled path. It wasn't fair, but the lizard would have to go.

A thought occurred to her.

"Jareth, what do rasa look like?"she asked.

Jareth had been eyeing the lizard with a contemplative gleam that did not bode well for future relations. Luckily, he hadn't tried to blast it with magic. Sarah paused as she recalled he hadn't used magic at all during the fight. She wondered if magic did not work against the lizards. So much the better, assuming she could get the lizard to agree.

The look Jareth gave her was not friendly.

Deciding it was safer for all involved if he stayed where he was for the moment, Sarah just tilted her head and waited patiently.

"Big rabbits with pointed teeth," Jareth finally said around clenched teeth.

Sarah nodded, then formed the image carefully in her mind. The start of hungry interest she got from the rock lizard was all the confirmation she needed.

"Do you have any objection if I ask the lizard to come home with us?"

She'd never seen Jareth look so stunned. Incredulous disbelief flowed across his face. Sarah watched fascinated as Jareth ignored the interested lizard looking at him and lost his composure completely. He didn't even seem to notice the way the lizard obligingly released him when Jareth swatted at the leg holding him. Instead he rolled to his feet and glared at her.

"Have you lost your wits, woman? The one problem I haven't had to deal with in that benighted kingdom is a plague of mere-dragons. Now you wish to invite them in? Do you plan to warn the goblins before they become dinner?"

"I had planned to ask him not to eat the goblins," she said soothingly.

Jareth threw his hands into the air,"Oh, that's different then. By all means, ask him not to eat the goblins. While you're at it, don't forget the rest of the inhabitants of the Labyrinth."

Sarah planted her hands on her hips, annoyed he hadn't seen the obvious. Jiann had spent enough time telling her about the various problems plaguing the Goblin Kingdom.

"Do you or do you not have a problem with overbreeding rasa?"

According to Jiann, the problem with the rasa had been an obvious side effect of Jareth's war against the more vicious coyote-like creatures she called hylar. She muttered something about the Host having air between the ears and Sarah had been uncertain if she meant warriors of Air or males in general. Given that most of Jareth's warrior host were Air, she supposed it amounted to the same thing. The rasa were not dangerous to a well-armed goblin unless they were encountered in large numbers, but they ate everything.

The rasa had decimated Jareth's harvests for years, and the numbers were growing. Letting the hylar control them had not been a viable solution. The hylar were indiscriminate hunters, taking goblin as easily as rasa. Worse, the rasa seemed able to survive a wide variety of environments. Even if Jareth could push his way into the Desert, the rasa were already impeding the efforts of his best farmers. Without growing things to reclaim the land, and food to feed his people, Jareth's Kingdom might yet fall.

A refusal was on his lips. She could see it in the set of his shoulders and the look on his face. He was opening his mouth to say something, probably a curt refusal, when a strange look suddenly crossed his face. An odd contemplative look grew in his eyes as he studied first her, then the mere-dragon. A mix of vague astonishment and blatant disbelief settled into his eyes.

Sarah wanted to push for an explanation, to shake him, to force him to agree. The same outrage and protective impulse that had driven her to defend Ludo all those years ago flared to life. She looked at the mere-dragon watching her, and the thought of that childlike curiosity changing to pain and betrayal caused her stomach to churn dangerously. Wrong. So wrong. The lizard wasn't evil, and the whisper that saw her safely through the most deadly maze of flame was screaming.

Jareth looked disconcerted when he finally nodded.

She could only close her eyes briefly with relief. She smiled her thanks, but the unease in his gaze did not abate. All she could do was work to prove his trust was not misplaced.

It took several hours to get her point across. The mere-dragon did not like the idea that he would have to share his territory, and it took time to convince him that sharing territory could be a good thing. Three hours into the conversation, Jareth had set up camp, carefully shifted and bandaged the survivor, and started a cheerful fire. Amazingly, the mere-dragon showed no unease at any of these preparations and that acceptance bothered Sarah on several levels.

They had gone from violence to negotiation so fast she still had not had time to actually think about the alien feelings that had coursed through her, and she had a sneaking suspicion there was more to the mere-dragon's reaction to her than just her unexpected ability to understand him. Even more odd, Jareth, for all his astonishment over what she was discussing, didn't seem to find it odd that she could be discussing it in the first place. This, in spite of the fact he clearly heard nothing at all from the mere-dragon.

The Goblin King and his Champion were going to have to have a little chat sometime soon.

For the moment however, she had goblins to remove from the menu.


	21. Chapter 21

The mere-dragon had politely refused a bowl of trail stew and gone hunting by the time night started to descend. Jareth said nothing as she settled wearily onto her gear and she mumbled her thanks as he handed her a bowl. She let the warmth soak into her hands for a moment, then devoured it with a hunger that surprised her. Jareth gave her a considering look when she proceeded to polish off three full bowls in succession but just muttered something about her body needing energy while it was adapting to her magic. She was too tired to chase after the answers he obviously had no intention of giving her.

"You can be a real pain in the ass, you know that?" she told him.

He smirked,"It has been said before." He cocked his head,"Usually with less delicacy."

She snorted, then stretched cautiously. Her muscles quivered oddly, then settled back into a familiar feel. It was beginning to worry her, this sense of being a stranger to her own body. It didn't feel like over-exertion, but it was enough like exhaustion that she was willing to wait and see. She had an uncomfortable feeling the answer was magic and she feeling too bruised over the lost Challenge to want to deal with any more magic at the moment.

She looked up to catch an expression of regret and loss on Jareth's face as he watched her. Surprise held her a second too long and the expression vanished. The closed one that followed warned her not to ask questions, but she wondered. The last of her appetite fled as it occurred to her that he was likely regretting the fact she had lost the Challenge.

"What happens now?" she asked quietly.

He hesitated, then shrugged," Ordinarily I would say we return to the Court. I do not understand why the magic has not transported us there already. Since it apparently wishes me to continue with the Trials..." he shrugged again.

She nodded unhappily.

"I will most likely be forced to wed Leann," he continued flatly.

She nodded again.

He watched her, eyes glittering in the firelight. After a long moment he spoke softly. "I do not know what you wish me to say."

She smiled wearily," Tell me we can stuff her in a bottle and drop her in the ocean for the next thousand years."

He froze, all motion completely arrested as he stared at her.

She wasn't serious. Exactly. "I'm joking!" she said defensively.

"No, you were not," he said softly.

She sighed." Okay, so I was a bit serious. You can't let her set foot in the Kingdom. Personally, I don't see why you have to let her. Marry her, secure the trade routes and exile her." Sarah flipped her hands expansively." Maybe we'll get lucky and some jealous wife will turn her into a toad."

Jareth was watching her with wide-eyed fascination. "How utterly ruthless," he said finally.

Sarah glared," Am I wrong?"

Jareth startled her by throwing his head back and laughing. When he grinned at her there was a hint of pointed canine in the smile."Marag will be furious."

She raised an eyebrow," And?"

Jareth sobered." And it is something that must be approached with care." His eyes gleamed with calculation. "However, it answers to the problem she could present." The Goblin King shook his head." I will give her no children to hold hostage."

His eyes and tone were both cold as he made that vow.

Sarah thought back to the hint of darkness she had seen in the woman's eyes when Leann had chosen the Challenge. She had been looking forward to seeing Sarah defeated. Sarah could have forgiven that. It was the knowledge that the woman would have welcomed her death that had chilled her to the bone. The thought of any children in her hands sent ice into Sarah's blood. The thought of Jareth's children in her hands, being used to bring him to his knees, sent a murderous fury sweeping through her.

"See that you don't," she said, as she considered just what she might have to do if he did.

The silence from Jareth had her looking up from her musings in surprise. The look on his face was hard to read. Part surprise. Part insult.

Part fear.

Then his expression cleared and all she could see was acceptance.

"Champions are not expected to be assassins," he said softly, carefully non-judgmental.

She wanted to tell him the thought had never crossed her mind. She really did.

"Only if it becomes necessary," she said instead. It should have bothered her that he wasn't more shocked. Then again, here was the man who had drugged a peach to steal a child. It wasn't like his species held any higher moral ground.

"Who decides what is necessary, Sarah?"he asked quietly.

She had an answer, but it was not one she was comfortable speaking aloud. The very thought should have been anathema, but she was no longer anywhere she could appeal to higher authority. The magic had given Leann the right to wrest Jareth's very choices from him. Sarah was finding herself supremely unsympathetic toward anyone who stood between them and what they would have to do to survive. Jareth had not gone looking for trouble.

Leann could damn well reap the ashes of what she had sown.

"I do," she said firmly.

Looking at him, she could pinpoint the exact moment their relationship shifted. She did not know yet what it had shifted to, but she was no longer Sarah Williams, firefighter, looking at the man she might or might not take as a lover. She was Sarah Williams, Champion, and she was only beginning to understand what that might demand of her. But she knew without asking that the Goblin King understood the responsibilities she had accepted - and accepted whatever that might bring. It was an odd sort of acceptance. In a split second, she had lost all control over her life, and yet he had given his life into her hands as surely as she had given hers into his.

His penetrating look seemed to bore into her soul and she stared back at him, for the first time unafraid of what he might find there. He had seen the dreams of the child once. Could he accept the convictions of the woman?

He nodded slowly, then bent and carefully retrieved something from one of the saddlebags he was sitting on. When he straightened and held out his hand, she had an uncomfortable flashback to a shattered castle tower and a crystal held out to her in much the same manner. She was not the only one with memories and the look in his eyes was inscrutable as she reached hesitantly for what he offered.

It was a ring. She briefly admired the arms and craftsmanship, then looked at him questioningly.

"It is an old custom, one dating back to before the War of Destruction. Champions today are often little more than status symbols, elite bodyguards, but once, they were much more." He tilted his head, mis-matched eyes dark and serious." Will you wear that ring, a symbol of all I hold and am, carry it in good faith and act in my stead where I cannot go? Speak with my voice where I cannot be heard? "

Whatever she did next could not be undone. She heard that truth whisper across her bones. Was she prepared to do this? Bind herself to the Goblin Kingdom for all time? The magic in her blood was warning that not even Jareth's death could break this oath. She would be bound onto death and beyond.

There was no hesitation in her when she held out her hand.

Something flared in his eyes and she held his gaze steadily as he slid the ring over the leather covering her left forefinger. She felt an odd sensation, as if the leaves around them were speaking and for a split second she felt the land beneath her feet like a second heartbeat. She gasped and he smiled wryly as the feeling faded.

"I am not bound to this land. It was simply saying hello. The first time you set foot in the Goblin Kingdom, it would be wise if you are not holding anything sharp or breakable. The experience is likely to be...intense."

"Is it like that for you all the time?" she asked with disbelief.

He nodded slowly.

She was lost for a moment in wonder, then remembered that he was bound to a land poisoned by Despair. Even the taste of health and life she had gotten still resonated in her blood and bone. How much more strongly would it be for Jareth in his own Kingdom? And would he feel the wounds caused by Despair, the dying of the land echoed in his own heartbeat?

"How do you stay sane?" she asked in horror.

"Practice," he said succinctly.


	22. Chapter 22

Anything else he might have said was lost as a low groan sounded from the body bundled next to the fire. Between one blink and the next Jareth was at his side. It wasn't until he warned her off with a glance that Sarah saw the crystal in his hand and realized he was anticipating a violent awakening.

She had been too focused on the mere-dragon to get a good look at the survivor before Jareth had bundled him into their spare blankets. She only knew it was male because that was how Jareth referred to him. The only thing she had truly seen were the rainbow array of feathers she had taken for a cloak similar to the white one Jareth had worn on the tower. Now, her jaw dropped as Jareth was knocked off his feet by the abrupt upsweep of powerful wings.

Jareth gave her a dirty look from where he lay sprawled on the ground, but she was too busy admiring the angel in front of her to respond. At least, he was what she imagined an angel would look like if one came dressed in tropical colors. Feathers shimmered as they settled into place and the angel glared about furiously. He froze when he saw Sarah, wings rising in a startle reflex. They snapped back out of the way and Sarah was hard-pressed to restrain a giggle as Jareth was forced to duck ungracefully to avoid being whacked a second time.

The angel was watching her face carefully and seemed to relax slightly at her involuntary smile. Then his gaze went past her shoulder and inhuman or not, the sudden anger and grief was easy to read. She eyed him warily as he brushed past her to kneel beside the bodies Jareth had moved carefully to one side, away from the fire. Jareth had placed a magical shield around them that would protect them from predators and prevent any further deterioration.

The angel stared at the bodies for a long moment, wings drooping.

"I'm sorry about your friends," Sarah said softly, knowing it wasn't a consolation. There were never any words to help. None that she had ever discovered.

The angel was silent, the he looked up, blue eyes shimmering in the fading light."They were not friends, nor heart-kin. But I knew them. "

Sarah nodded.

The angel looked surprised at this wordless reaction, but she really did understand.

Rainbow wings spread wide and the unknown man sang a single note. Jareth came swiftly to his feet but just stood watchfully. Sarah took a hesitant step back, then froze as light seemed to gather within Jareth's shields. It gathered strength until it was blinding, and then it was gone. Winked out, leaving spots dancing across her eyelids and taking the bodies with it.

She blinked away tears and stared.

"They have returned home," the angel said quietly.

She was almost afraid to ask whether he meant a physical home, or some sort of afterworld. She would have to remember to ask Jareth later. In the meantime, she was not at all comfortable with the idea that such ability might be used against living beings. Especially given that her new best friend was the lizard that had killed this man's companions.

Praying the mere-dragon would not return at an awkward moment, she was hunting for something to say when a high, mournful cry echoed from the bushes to the right of the road. The angel whipped around, wings spreading wide. Sarah saw Jareth draw his sword and the angel hissed malevolently, then turned to look at Sarah.

"That is the sound that lured us into the beast's trap," he said grimly.

Exchanging glances with Jareth, Sarah stepped cautiously toward the bushes as the cry came again. From the corner of her eye she saw the angel reach for her in protest. Jareth grabbed his arm before he could touch her, then he stepped past the angel and came up behind her. The angel rustled his wings unhappily, but said nothing. Instead, he raised his hand and light blazed, chasing back the shadows. Sarah flinched, then blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted.

She was almost certain what she would find, and was unsurprised when the bushes proved to conceal a large hole in the hillside. Her nostrils flared involuntarily as the strong musky odor of mere-dragon reached her. It was not unpleasant, she decided. But it was strong enough to convince her that they had discovered the mere-dragon's lair.

Prey or predator. There were really only two things the owner of that mournful cry could be...and she did not think the cry strong enough to belong to an adult rock lizard. She sheathed the dagger she had drawn and crouched carefully on hands and knees. The mere-dragon must have been more flexible than it looked, she thought grimly as she considered the narrow opening barely three feet high.

"Sarah..."the Goblin King said warningly.

"One of us needs to stay here in case our friend returns," she said quietly.

She met his eyes steadily. His mouth tightened, but he did not protest further. Sarah, Champion. Jareth, Goblin King. Neither of them might be expendable, but bedamned if he was sticking his head in the hole first.

Besides, the rock lizard liked her better.

A twist of his hand and a crystal appeared. Before she could ask, he blew on it gently and it drifted past her head like a soap bubble caught on the breeze. Much more useful however, as once inside the tunnel, it started to glow. She shivered as the sad cry came again, its eerie howl crawling across her spine. She took a deep breath and crawled carefully into the tunnel.

The tunnel wasn't long, and in spite of her care, it was only a couple of minutes before the tunnel opened into a small cave. It wasn't large enough to stand, but she was able to sit back on her heels and straighten her back. The musky odor of lizard combined with the dry smell of earth and roots almost hid the faint hint of rotting meat.

She turned her head and peered around carefully. To her right was obviously where the lizard slept. The rest of the floor was surprisingly empty of all but a few shattered bones. Sarah frowned as she wondered where the smell of rotting meat was coming from, then realized it was mostly shreds of flesh left on several larger bones piled against the wall to her right. As if reading her mind, the glowball drifted over to the pile and brightened.

Something whimpered.

A shadow darted across the back of the cave, trying to escape the light. Sarah jerked reflexively, her heart slamming off the inside of her ribs. Drawing in a deep breath she tried to get a better look. Eyes gleamed in the darkness and she pushed back a sudden attack of nerves. Whatever it was more scared of her than she was of it, and it hadn't attacked yet.

"It's okay," she said softly. "I'm not going to hurt you."

She concentrated on keeping her voice gentle and sending waves of friendly thoughts. Maybe it wasn't empathic like the mare or the lizard, but it could probably smell better than she could. Maybe she could smell friendly.

It whined softly.

Keeping up a steady stream of soft conversation, she worked her way across the cave. Whatever it was whimpered occasionally, but didn't move. She left the light where it was, hoping the creature would feel more secure in the shadows. Finally she was close enough to make out the rough shape of the head. Triangular ears swiveled forward as she crooned softly and a blunt muzzle sniffed at her outreached hand slowly. It whined again as she pet it gently.

It crept forward cautiously, and she held herself still. It wasn't until she was lifting it into her arms however, that she realized what it might be. Astonished, she ran over the characteristics in her mind, trying to recall everything Jiann had told her about the Trials. Only why...?

The puppy's head turned and she caught the gleam of iridescent blue eyes.

Hope faded as she searched the cave for further movement and came up empty. She knew it was futile, but she searched anyway. Nothing. No shadows moving, no second whimper. No amber gleam in the dark.

"I guess that's that," she whispered softly.

For one terrible, wonderful moment, she had hoped.

Feeling physically beaten, she crawled back toward open air. Jareth was crouched by the entrance, peering anxiously into the dark. She felt the puppy squirm and bit her lip as she tried not to cry. She told herself she had known what she was doing. She had no right to regrets now that the choice was made. But seeing the proof hurt in a way she had not anticipated. Especially since she had wondered...

The angel was male after all.

Telling herself she was a fool, she tried to salvage the last of her pride. She even managed to dredge up a slight feeling of anticipation over Jareth's coming reaction to the puppy. Offhand, she didn't recall anything that resembled any of the tests of Loyalty that Jiann had discussed with her and he was likely to be as surprised about the creature as she was. Although... Jareth had not enlightened her as to what he had done to earn the ring currently residing on her left hand either.

She frowned as she ran through a mental checklist.

The armor had been awarded by virtue of the fact they had been Chosen. Endurance: the warhorses. Bravery: weapons. Selflessness and Honor: the ring and the cloak. Now Jareth had passed the test of Loyalty and been awarded the same in return, the companionship of one of the wardogs bred before the War of Destruction. By her count, there was only one test left, that of Wisdom, and the granting of a magical ability designed to aid the Champion in his service to his new Kingdom.

The one thing she didn't understand, was if the magic was flexible enough to award Jareth for actions completely unrelated to any of the historical tests, why didn't it take her own circumstances into consideration. She paused unhappily. Unless it had. She wondered suddenly, if her failure had not been her choice so much as the fact her choice had been made because she had not been capable of protecting Jareth from the consequences of any other choice. Had she had proper training in magic, she should have been able to hold him. She had thought the purpose of the test was to prove she had the commitment to protect another.

Maybe, it was more about her ability to do so.

It was true, she acknowledged, that the incident had crystallized her determination to master her own magic. She had never planned to ignore the gift the Labyrinth had given her, but that had been a result of personal interest. It wasn't until she failed the test that she had considered that she also had an obligation to learn to use her magic wisely. Not because it had been given to her, but because the fact she had it would place others in a position to be victimized by her ignorance.

She truly believed that she had not deserved to lose.

But for the first time, she wondered if maybe she had not deserved to win, either.


	23. Chapter 23

Magic was not in the habit of granting second chances.

Jareth's hands tightened involuntarily and he wondered if it would have hurt less if the magic had chosen another form. The feathers Saren wore could have been endured. The wings. Even the subtle glamour and physical beauty that Jareth would never possess. All formed a twisted mirror of truth and well-worn regrets woven to create a man Jareth could never be.

He was, Jareth realized with a bitter fury, tired of being afraid.

The final insult was the songs and stories he had never dared to share with her. She would have enjoyed them, once upon a time. And the Goblin King? He would have let himself be swept away by the innocent delight in her eyes. Cherished the desire. Done anything to win the love of a mortal girl who would never know she was his fatal flaw. The obsession of the King.

The destroyer of worlds.

Jareth lowered his head and stared at his clenched hands. He had known the moment he held her. Danced with her. Waited for her to reject him with laughter or fear. Instead, she had seen...something. He would have scorned it for an errant fantasy if not for the nature of the spell he had used. There were times, dark times, when he admitted that even then he had been looking for clues to her desires. He remembered thinking that he could use what he learned to ensnare her.

Of course, why would a trap have been needed if the spell had gone as planned?

Even then, he must have had plans to seduce her.

He told himself he would have waited until she was old enough. Sent her back to the mortal world and made certain that all her dreams came true. That had been the substance of his final offer. The one he had prayed she would accept even as he made certain she would not. How could she, when he knew the very Words she would speak to deny him? Jareth might have decried the necessity, but the Goblin King had known he could not afford to fail. Otherwise when she was old enough, he would have given her everything her heart desired and planted the final seeds of destruction.

Old enough to take a lover perhaps. Old enough to fall in love. How could she not, when he held the keys to winning her heart? The crystal had laid bare the secret dreams of her heart, and glamour or no, Jareth had enough magic to be anyone she wanted him to be. It would not have been real, but it would have been enough. Real enough that he would have done anything to make sure it continued.

She would not have survived. Sarah as he knew her now would never have existed. Jareth would have cherished her and loved her until he destroyed the woman the Labyrinth needed her to become. Murdered her by denying the circumstances of her beginning. By his very love he would have nurtured the woman who gazed at him with her heart in her eyes to the stillbirth of the one currently laughing with another.

So he had chosen and in his choice he had chosen for her.

And while the girl she had been might have accepted that truth if wrapped in heartfelt apologies, the woman she had become would be much less forgiving.

* * *

Sarah smiled at Saren as he picked out the haunting tune of what she had decided was fast becoming her favorite ballad. His voice slipped across her skin softly, and she sighed as tension she had not even noticed seeped away. It had been a quiet three days, and if it had not felt selfish, she would have blessed the injuries that had forced Saren to keep from traveling - and subsequently kept Jareth and his Champion close enough to keep him from getting eaten.

She had worried when the mere-dragon had not returned by the second day, but Jareth had assured her such a hunting pattern was normal. She could only hope the lizard was hunting rabbits. She had also chosen not to enlighten Saren about the fact she was allied with the beast. If they were lucky, Saren would be healed before the lizard made it an issue.

The last three days had been...nice.

Jareth had talked about his plans for the Goblin Kingdom, Saren had introduced her to the songs of the Underground, and Sarah had been pleasantly shocked to discover that her developing magic apparently included the ability to speak and understand any language she heard - even dead ones. Saren had just about fallen over in shock when she unwittingly replied to him in his own language, then had slyly pulled every ancient song from his repertoire and argued translations with her. From his evil grin, some of her definitions defied conventional wisdom and from some of the changes he had been making to some of the ballads, he was planning to enjoy himself shaking up the establishment.

Sarah had just been grateful for an explanation as to why she could understand lizard.

Jareth had eyed her oddly when she had mentioned it to him. He had shrugged and commented that the talent was an old one and historically belonged to Air. Almost, she had thought he intended to say something else, but if so, he had changed his mind. Instead, he had handed her a bowl of something she chose not to identify and watched with amusement as she polished it off.

To her dismay, her appetite had taken on epic proportions. Even Saren seemed bemused by the sheer amount of food she was eating and he was no slouch when it came to decimating their food stores either. Luckily, both men kept the camp well supplied with food, although Saren was restricted to using magic while Jareth, surprisingly, seemed to have developed an urge to hunt. At least once a day he would disappear for several hours, returning with at least one offering of meat.

The first time he had appeared silently from the brush she had paused and watched him as he strode across the camp looking dangerous and untamed with his black armor and windblown hair. The edgy image had promptly been destroyed when the puppy came tearing out of the bushes, and tripped over his own oversized paws. The resulting tangle of war dog and person had inevitable results. Nobody could look dignified while sprawled on the ground, being licked to death, but Jareth's sudden laughter had done serious damage to her ability to breathe.

Sarah let her gaze drift across the campsite.

Jareth was leaning against his gear, staring into the fire and she wondered what he was thinking as he mechanically ran one gloved hand gently down the back of the puppy sprawled trustingly across his lap. The stallion was standing behind him, dozing lightly; head drooping until his nose almost touched Jareth's hair. The mare was a shadow barely visible outside the circle of firelight and Sarah was struck by a sudden longing to join them. Her eyes fell to Jareth's hand still smoothing ruffled fur and imagination conjured the ghostly feel of that same hand caressing her hair. The gentle press of his fingers trailing along her spine as she rested her head against his thigh. She swallowed at the sudden longing that surged into her chest without warning.

He had surprised her, the last few days.

The puppy had been demanding and accident prone. Time after time she watched as Jareth dealt with his demands for attention with patience and gentle words. Nor had he seemed unduly surprised by his puppy's attempt to commit suicide. More than once Sarah had seen Jareth's head shoot around and she had watched as the Goblin King leapt to prevent disaster with a skill that could only come from long practice.

She contemplated the boneless lump of fur and marveled that one innocent looking animal could find so many ways to create havoc. She wasn't so sure she wouldn't have killed him by now. She transferred her gaze back to Jareth and the unexpected thought that he would make a good father drifted into mind. She froze, eyes wide, as she waited for Jareth to react, feeling exposed and unnerved by the turn her thoughts had taken. It wasn't improper exactly, she thought uncomfortably, considering that children would have figured in somewhere had she not lost the Goblin crown.

But it was not part of her image of Jareth.

And it would not go away.

She licked her lips awkwardly as her mouth went dry and she stared across the campsite. She had imagined him as her lover more times than she could remember. There had been moments where she had been terrified he could see inside her head because half the fantasies she had of him bordered on indecent. The others were probably illegal. She'd almost died of humiliation the morning after she had drunk that damned drug because she had experienced the sudden horrifying certainty that she had told him all her perverted fantasies, all the ways she had imagined him over the years and she could not bear the thought of his distaste.

Or worse, his pity.

Luckily, he had not seemed any different. There had been no speculative gleam in his eyes or wary distance. She could only assume she had been incoherent and tried to pretend the possibility of what she might have told him or asked him, or begged him to do to her didn't bother her. The tiny, almost inaudible voice that whispered she had missed her chance to see if any of her fantasies interested him was something she pretended not to hear.

But she had never imagined him as a father. She had never wondered about quiet nights, or quiet conversations, or how he might look if she told him the little stick had turned blue. She had never imagined a lot of things. None of the things that would have made it seem possible or real.

Nothing that might have made him too real.

Clenching her hands, she sucked in a sudden breath against a throat closed and painfully tight. She wanted all those things, she realized. All of the things she had never let herself dream because none of them were possible. None of them. Not with a too beautiful dream who had offered everything she had ever wanted only because he wanted Toby.

Heat burned down one cheek and she closed her eyes to hide the tears. He wasn't hers. He had never really wanted to be. That was the real reason she had hated him. Not because he had lied, but because the lie was better than anything else anyone else could have offered and she wanted it enough to take it anyway. She would have taken it, if he had offered it again, when she was old enough to understand what he had really been asking. That was the person she had tried to hard to leave behind.

The one who would willingly lie to herself.

This, Sarah thought miserably, was going to end in disaster. Bad enough when all she had wanted was his body. Now, she wanted him. She wanted his sarcastic wit, his arrogant certainties, his unexpected shyness and his guarded hope for the future. And she wanted his children. She, who was not even certain she was the motherly sort, wanted those kids with a hunger that was beginning to frighten her.

Eyes fixed on Jareth she was distantly aware on her fingers digging painfully into the earth just before something smashed into her wrist and knocked her sideways. She hit the ground with a shocked yelp and stared at Sarenincredulously. He smiled ruefully just a shade too late to be believable.

"I'm sorry Sarah, I only meant to get your attention." His eyes widened with concern and he reached for her hand.

She eyed him, thoughts whirling and her emotions confused. She glanced back at Jareth who was staring at them, a slight frown on his face, but the demand and immediacy of her reaction to him had been broken. Saren had used the few moments of her distraction to brush the dirt from her hands and he was encouraging her to move back onto the log she had been sitting on earlier. She stared at it blankly. She had not even been aware she had moved.

"Sarah?"

She shivered, then forced herself to smile and allowed Saren to draw her into a debate about the meaning of a ballad he claimed had been written almost five thousand years ago. If nothing else, the songs were giving her some insight into the history of the Sidhe. Saren soon had her laughing and when she looked cautiously across the campsite, Jareth had gone back to gazing at the fire. She even began to wonder if she had imagined that moment of intense emotion.

But she was careful not to look at the memory too closely.


	24. Chapter 24

"Sarah?"

She was going crazy.

That was the only explanation.

"Sarah!"

She ignored the voice trying to get her attention and focused on the more pressing problem, that of looming insanity. It had always been a subtle fear. A never mentioned, carefully ignored threat of possibility that she had never, NEVER told anyone. Her experiences in the Labyrinth-they could have been written off as the result of a vivid imagination. It was when she began dreaming of Jareth that she had begun to worry she was losing her mind. Especially when none of the men around her could live up to the sensual promise of those dreams.

She had worried that those dreams had been too real.

Now, she didn't dare sleep. For the past two nights, since that moment by the fire, her dreams had taken on the quality of nightmares. The moment she closed her eyes, phantom hands grabbed at her body. Each time, it started like a memory. Falling toward the oubliette, hands in the darkness tearing at her clothes and pinching her skin.

This time, when she landed, the hands didn't let go.

Clothing vanished, torn away. Dry palms and nimble fingers rubbed heat into her skin until she moaned unable to articulate what she wanted, not even knowing herself until strong fingers wrapped around her knees and ankles and pulled her legs apart. Fear overrode desire then, as cold air slipped across hidden flesh, revealing it to the darkness. Fingers would then capture her wrists and palms collected beneath the small of her back and pushed upward.

Exposed and vulnerable she could only wait in the dark, unable to move. Unable to escape the feeling that someone was watching. Then, just before she started screaming, hands would brush against her naked body.

Just two.

Fingers would trail teasingly down her face, sharp nails barely creasing her skin. Embarrassed, she would moan as those hands, cool and knowing, slid down the sides of her breasts, circling her nipples playfully. Then they traveled slowly downward, taunting her with their inevitable destination. By the time those questing fingers reached her clenched stomach, she wasn't trying to get away.

She was trying to get closer.

In her own mind, she knew who owned those hands, but the truth was, as they dropped below her navel, she didn't care. She didn't care if he was watching her, owl eyes fierce and merciless in the dark. She didn't care if he was using her, or luring her, or laughing at her weakness. All she wanted, all she needed, was for those hands to complete what the others had started. What those others were promising he would do as they began tightening their grip.

Her knees were bent until her feet touched her hips and the position of her wrists and the arch in her spine gave her no leverage to move. She was helpless, at the mercy of whatever he decided to do and as the hands gripping her knees pulled them further apart, she'd start begging, pleading with him to touch her. Willingly she arched her back and her neck, ignoring the sudden desire for the feel of his breath moist and hot against her throat as he teased her with his teeth.

She'd always moan his name then, shameless with painful frustration and frantic desire.

Then she'd wake up.

Panting in the darkness, the night cold and silent around her, she would listen fearfully for movement and pray she had not called his name or done anything that would expose her dreams to either of the men sleeping only a few feet away. In spite of her fear of humiliation, she was never able to resist a furtive glance in Jareth's direction, squinting in the firelight to see if he was awake and watching her. She was never sure if she was relieved or disappointed when she confirmed he was not.

The dreams that followed were almost worse.

Her body throbbing painfully from the first dream, the rest of the night would pass in a mish mash of sexual frustration and the odd image that seemed to make no sense at all. Anonymous hands or lips or whispers would drive her insane with desire, leaving her frustrated and wanting. Then she would see his face and the same look of calculation he had worn at the end of their dance. She'd be on the verge of screaming when the dream would shatter.

And these were the moments that made no sense at all.

She would see Jareth, but not as she would have expected to see him. Not dangerous or seductive. She'd see him riding across red sand, exhaustion in every line of his body, blood caked and drying on his face and clothes. She'd see goblins, screaming and arguing like twelve year olds calmed and distracted by a playful song and dancing Gobin King. She'd see him accept a flower from a tiny child and then she'd see the mischievous face of a five-year-old girl and the child had Jareth's eyes and flyaway hair.

It wasn't even the child she wanted. Not exactly. It was the echo of her father in her face, the laughing eyes and silver smile, that Sarah wanted to reach out and capture. Protect.

Claim.

Then the darkness would take her again and it would be less sensual and more threatening than before. Sarah was finding it harder and harder to believe she was imagining the threat woven into the dreams. The emotionless manipulation that was beginning to sour the experience. It was like she was seeing two men, both of them Jareth, but the sensuality of the one tormenting her body had given way to a crude sexuality that was harder and crueler than she had ever imagined him to be. Ugly. Twisted.

The intrigued fear she initially felt was edging toward something far more serious.

Sarah stared at the ring on her left hand and wondered if she had made a dangerous mistake.

"Sarah!"

She jerked around in shock, yanked out of her speculation as Saren crashed through the last of the greenery protecting her and stumbled slightly before regaining his balance. Leaves and twigs were twisted in his hair while blood trickled from several deep scratches on his face. She peered doubtfully at the forest behind him and wondered how in the hell he had had so much difficulty. There had been a clear path through the trees when she had discovered this place.

She was beginning to think Saren was a city boy to the bone.

For the last two days, as his injuries healed enough to give him back his mobility, Saren had suffered one indignity after another. The mare had snapped at him. Logs crumbled beneath him when he sat on them. Banks collapsed beneath his feet, dumping him into the river. And most recently...

She looked up to see him eyeing his wings with a grim look on his face.

Sarah winced.

Some sort of parasite had infested his feathers and the resulting damage had him looking distressingly like a molting parrot. He settled them with a shake of the head and turned a determined gaze toward her.

"Sarah, I must speak with you."

He rustled his wings uncertainly as she looked at him questioningly, then let them droop.

"Sarah," he started uncomfortably," forgive me, but I can no longer keep silent." He rustled his wings again, looking awkward." I fear you are being..."

He trailed off and she frowned when he avoided her eyes.

Finally, after a long silence he peered at her, an expression of embarrassment on his face. It dawned on her what he might be trying to say and she felt the heat of a furious blush expand under the skin of her face. Saren looked momentarily distressed, but stood his ground.

He set his wings at a determined angle," Sarah, do you understand the nature of Jareth's bond with the land?"

She blinked.

Saren's mouth tightened grimly at her blank expression. "You mentioned dreams, when you returned Above. Forgive me, Sarah, but you are dreaming now and the nature of those dreams..."

She flushed painfully as his gaze dropped politely, then returned.

"I must ask if these dreams are more...vivid than before."

She stared at him, confused, until his eyes dropped to the ring on her finger. This time when he looked back at her, he did not look away.

She was not even aware when she began shaking her head.

"Sarah," Saren said softly," a ruler must be mated. The land itself requires it. The power lost without a joining is significant."

She just kept shaking her head and Saren's expression hardened. "Sarah, do you understand? The nature of your beginnings, your ties to the world Above means that a true joining with you would bring him the power of both. "

Dreams too vivid for a teenager.

Dreams that had gotten more so after her connection to the land increased through her oath to Jareth.

Manipulation designed to bring her to heel.

Sarah wanted to scream at Saren to go away. To take the words back, because they spoke to the fears she had been unable to express. Unfortunately, she knew the truth when she heard it. Jareth himself had alluded to it, although she had not understood what he meant at the time. She didn't want to understand what Saren was accusing Jareth of doing, but she did.

She flashed again on the memory she had of him, calculating and watchful as they danced. Was Jareth using his connection to the land to manipulate her? She had no trouble believing he would do it if he felt himself justified. She knew that in her bones. And... It made sense. The reason for his offer, the dreams afterward. Even the fact he had accepted her as his Champion.

She stood, surprising Saren who hopped a step backward in reflex. He reached out to touch her arm.

"What are you planning, Sarah?" he asked worriedly.

She didn't need to know if; she didn't even need to ask why. Those were obvious, and oddly, not very important at the moment. She would worry about the personal consequences later. Right now, she needed to understand whether this was the act of a desperate ruler, or calculated cruelty by a man who enjoyed what he was doing. Her skin crawled at the thought it might be the latter and every instinct said it was wrong. Not possible. Not the man she knew. But that part also couldn't forget her uneasiness over her most recent dreams.

She didn't want to know, she admitted.

She didn't want to think about what she might have to do if she got the wrong answer.

"I need to talk to Jareth,"she said softly.


	25. Chapter 25

She heard Saren's wings close with a crack, then she heard a crash as he struggled through the bush behind her.

"Sarah, wait."

She ignored the concerned tone in his voice and focused on finding Jareth. She didn't even question the knowledge that he wasn't back at camp and headed blindly through the forest in his direction. Rage was slow to gather, and her vision shifted, causing the shadows to shimmer oddly. Another thing the Goblin King was going to explain when she found him.

A hand wrapped itself around her upper arm and brought her spinning around sharply. She had a brief glimpse of a snarl and blood red plumage, then light flared and...

...she found herself looking at Jareth.

She stumbled, rage dimming. Images raced across her brain and she shook her head with confusion. What had she...? Sarah frowned as she looked at Jareth as he stood on the far side of the clearing, his back to her. She had been coming to find him, she remembered. She had been alone at the water's edge. She had been staring at the water and she was thinking about the lyrics of that ballad Saren had sung last night. Lyrics that had struck a note in memory. They had been the reason she had retreated to the water. To think.

That was when she had realized what Jareth had done.

Rage flared again as she remembered.

Jareth heard her footfalls behind him and spun around, his face lighting with a welcoming smile. Why had she never noticed the calculation in his eyes before? Ten years. Ten years he had manipulated her, ruled her.

Denied her.

Cold fury catalogued everything he had stolen from her.

No more lies. She watched as his smile faded and realization settled onto his face. Even then she might have forgiven him if there had been a shred of regret in his eyes. Instead, one eyebrow rose cynically and a slightly mocking smile touched his lips. How had she missed the cruel edge to his smile? She had always known he had the capacity. She had just never realized he had the ability to enjoy it.

Helpless rage spiraled dizzyingly. She was no one's victim. He would explain why. He would justify it to her. Then she would decide what she was going to do. And maybe this time it would be the Goblin King on his knees.

Even as her rage fired itself higher, an image of Jareth as he had looked sprawled on the ground, a puppy sitting triumphantly on his chest darted across inner vision. She stumbled and her vision flexed as the smile on Jareth's face twisted with contempt as he watched her. She took one step closer and stumbled again as another image snapped into place. Jareth, as he had looked at her in the crystal just before he took her hand, the vulnerability and fear in his eyes as he stared at her from the embrace of two other dancers.

She shuddered and shook her head, feeling as if she had taken a physical blow. Pain stabbed through her eye sockets and she saw more images. Things she had never been in a position to see. Jareth gently holding Toby. Jareth leaning against the shoulder of his stallion, eyes haunted. Jareth on his knees amid the wreckage of a broken tower, and in his hand, blood pooled around a broken crystal.

The mocking image in front of her wavered and collided with more images, each of them burning across her mind. Her vision blackened, tinged with red, and for the first time, Jareth looked afraid. Throwing her head back, she dropped to her knees and found the mental river of force thrusting itself into her brain. She had just enough coherence left to recognize the conduit Jareth had opened when he placed the Champion's ring on her finger.

The tie with the land.

He was using it?

Truth or illusion? Trap or misunderstanding? She considered what she was about to do. Jareth wanted to use her? He wanted to give the land what it wanted it? Then maybe the land knew the truth. She had a split second to wonder what was going to happen, then she drove her hands into the earth beneath her and tore apart the barrier separating her mind from the river.

She heard screaming as she fell beneath the water.


	26. Chapter 26

Jareth stumbled as the land trembled beneath his feet and he turned in confusion as the mare screamed. The stallion reared and bugled, then his mane was beneath Jareth's hands and before he even understood the demand, the Goblin King was astride and they were racing into the forest. Rage flooded his mind, the unforgiving anger of the land and he shuddered before its fury. Dimly he was aware of the mare racing ahead, her lesser height and greater agility allowing her to crash easily through the openings in the forest that simply appeared before her.

Pain and confusion lashed at him. Feral anger slammed into him, beating at him with mental fists and protests. He barely had the wit to recognize the taste of Sarah's magic demanding answers when the stallion broke into a clearing and he saw the mare leap over something huddled on the ground. Saren fell beneath her hooves, then twisted out of reach in a quicksilver flash, clearly unharmed.

Jareth noticed all this in a daze of confusion, but his body knew what to do. He was off the stallion and running for Sarah before he could even question what had occurred. Then Saren threw out a hand and magic lifted Jareth off his feet and slammed him to the ground a good thirty feet from where he had started.

A snarl ripped from the Goblin King's throat and his vision flexed with avian clarity.

"Stay back, you fool," Saren shouted.

Beneath Jareth's hands, the land snarled, and Saren snapped his wings wide as the land trembled again.

Jareth darted an assessing look at his Champion. She was collapsed on the ground and he did not need his connection to the land to know something was dreadfully wrong. He noted the hands sunk to the wrists in dry earth and turned his head to study Saren with new eyes. The winged being caught the look and narrowed burning eyes.

"Do you think to match yourself against me, Goblin King?" Scarlet wings rustled, deceptively gentle." Surely you are not so foolish."

"What have you done here?" Jareth demanded.

Wings snapped with anger. "I?" Saren raised one eyebrow, then smiled mirthlessly." This can be laid squarely at your feet, Goblin King. None of this would have been necessary had you done the thing properly."

Jareth stared with confusion.

Saren stepped toward Sarah only to be stopped by the mare's heels. The stallion's eyes rolled in fear as the mare snapped at Saren, but he stood gamely at her shoulder. The war horses had to know they were little more than cannon fodder in the face of the power facing them but both held their ground.

Saren whirled in a flurry of feathers and crouched down to meet Jareth's wary gaze.

"Did you truly think you could use that spell without consequence?"

Jareth trembled slightly, guilt and shame warring with the certainty he had done everything he could to avert disaster.

"I let her go," Jareth said carefully.

Saren laughed, a high wild sound that sent shudders rippling across Jareth's body.

"Is that what you think?" Saren tossed his head, then gifted Jareth with a malicious smile." Lie to yourself if you must, but do not lie to me."

Jareth looked at him, uncertain as to the nature of the accusation. Saren stood and Jareth did not like the look on his face as he stared down at Sarah.

"I saw the warning," Jareth said shortly. He did not bother to explain further. There would be no understanding or forgiveness for whatever further crimes he had committed. The magic he faced was a cold wind against his senses and every instinct in his body was urging him to take wing and hide. There was nothing human there, and little that was Sidhe. This was pure magic, distilled and given form.

"You saw your own weakness,"Saren judged emotionlessly.

Jareth did not bother to deny it.

"As the world falls down,"Saren reminded him.

"I let her go!" Jareth yelled, unable to bear the fear and the hurt and the loneliness without protest any longer. "I let her go," he said again, softly. He closed his eyes against the memories. He remembered sending her home. Remembered the long years that followed. The need to see her. To protect her. The bitter knowledge of his own helplessness every time she called out to him in his dreams, because he did not know where protection would end and destruction commence.

"Idiot child," Saren snapped," she was chosen for you! Did you think the Land would be as willing as you to let her go?"

Jareth looked at him blankly.

Saren snarled and pointed," Do you even know what you have wrought with your careless Words and magic? Paradox!"

In spite of the danger, rebellion flared to life. Jareth raised his head and regarded Saren, frustration and anger sparking sullenly. Mayhap his choice had been wrong...but it had not been careless.

Saren's lip curled, as if he could hear the thoughts unspoken. "Magic gives no second chances," he said coldly.

Jareth froze. No second chances? Then the test had not...

Then why...?

"I was _supposed_ to drink the other cup," he said slowly. "It was necessary."

Saren spread his hands wide and wings wide and nodded slightly.

"I am Sarah's test," Jareth said quietly, the truth of the last few days revealing itself at last.

Saren's eyes glittered," You have bound this world to her service in five dimensions and left her untrained and unrestrained. That power comes with responsibility."

"Sarah is well versed in the concept of responsibility," Jareth snapped.

One molting wing raised distainfully,"And of course, you would know." Saren leaned forward slightly," Do you still tell yourself you fear her forgiveness?" He smiled ferally at Jareth's silence." Tell me child, what does your Champion see when she looks at you? A warrior?"His voice deepened mockingly, "A hero?"

Jareth flinched.

Saren's gaze was distant as he looked down at Sarah,"You have no concept of what you have done. The Land found her and the Labyrinth chose her above all others for a reason. Your desires, Goblin King. Your dreams found in flesh. Yours, until you took council of your fears." Saren looked back at Jareth, expression remote." You are her weakness, and that is what you will always be."

Jareth shook his head in mute protest. He struggled to find the words that would make the magic understand.

"She is no longer who she was. She is no longer the girl ruled by fantasies. She is stronger than that." He drew a careful breath. "I have no power over her."

Saren just looked at him with disgust," The magic you called is not so shallow. You dreamed your dreams of a power that would allow you to save the Land and the Labyrinth, and unlike previous Labyrinth Kings, you put a face and form to your desire. YOU told the Land what you needed, and the Land needs what you need. It found her, the Labyrinth reshaped her, and both have been sending her dreams for over a decade trying satisfy desire. My concern in this matter is what she will do when she realizes what you have done. ALL of what you have done."

He looked at the circling horses and his face was expressionless. "Unfortunately, the Land has a will of its own."

Jareth felt a cold trickle of unease crawl up his spine.

Saren continued to stare down at the fallen woman. "You know what she is becoming."

Jareth swallowed tightly. "A child of fire," he whispered.

Saren rustled his wings in agreement, then let them fall still. "I cannot test her, the Land interferes." When he turned his head to look at Jareth, they were black, wells of pure magic. "The Land wakes instinct and she has gone feral. I cannot judge a choice unmade, and I cannot allow her to kill you, Goblin King."

Jareth finally understood.

"The Land will survive," Saren said calmly.

Jareth laughed bitterly and Saren ignored him. Why not, when it was the body of the Labyrinth King he needed? But wrong, he was wrong too, because when Sarah was gone, if Saren took her from him, Jareth would lay down his sword and fight no longer. Despair would find a welcome home in what was left of his soul and then the world truly would come down. By his will, he would bring it down. He might be her weakness, but she was his. The magic appeared to have forgotten that, if it had ever truly understood.

"The Land chose her for me?" the Goblin King asked quietly.

Saren made the mistake of not turning, of not seeing the odd light in Jareth's eyes. The Goblin King smiled, his own teeth feral.

"Then so be it."

Saren cried out as the land cracked open and roared. He threw himself into the air, easily avoiding the magic Jareth channeled in his direction. Jareth did not care. All that mattered was that Saren was no longer standing in his way. A barn owl took to the sky with a cry and when the magic hit him, he rode the shockwave as the land rose within him and struck back. Bleeding and torn he fell across her body, claws catching in her armor, wings wrapping around her face protectively.

Then the land tore itself open once again and swallowed them.


	27. Chapter 27

Jareth groaned as the land prodded at his unconscious mind.

It was not the land to which he was bound, but land knew land. Through his oath to the High King, and his blood ties to those bound to this land, this part of the Inner Kingdom knew him better than most. Jareth could feel residual anger as the land probed his injuries and healed him with a generosity that surprised him. Even more disturbing was the pleasure the land took in his sincere gratitude.

Land was not normally so...aware.

It had also chosen a restful place to spit them out. The wooded glen was peaceful, a gentle brook babbled just out of sight, and the only wildlife nearby was small and curious. Nor was the glen lacking in magical protection. The trees surrounding them were well rooted in time, and their weathered bark and gracefully spreading canopies were a formidable barrier. Jareth suspected the trees were not the only line of defense in this place.

Saren would not be following.

Although...

Jareth contemplated the woman sleeping in his arms thoughtfully.

There was a tapestry in the hall of the High Court. Jareth had stared at it for hours as a child, fascinated by the images stitched into ancient fabric. From the dying sun to the torches carried by the riders, Fire had shimmered and gleamed as the last of its children rode to war. They had not died alone, those warriors. Air had taken its own share of losses.

But then, when the last of Fire had fallen, what was left for Air to do but to die?

They had not spent their lives in vain.

They held the magic long enough for the rest of the Sidhe to flee to the Inner Kingdoms, but the last of them was bleached bone, buried beneath sand red with blood and Despair. Until now. Jareth reached out hesitantly, tracing fingers softly down her cheekbone. His gaze dropped to the dragon armor wrapped around her body. For most, it responded readily enough to small desires. It changed shape to suit the wearer. Height. Weight.

Simple things.

For a child of fire, it became something else.

He traced a careful finger up one arm and examined the blades of bone studding the underside of her forearm with respect. Three more spurs curved over her calves in a line up the back of her leg from her ankle, halfway to her knee. At rest, and while riding, the razor-sharp spurs were perfectly safe. But on foot, under the right conditions, they would fan out away from her body, and at the right angle could open a man's stomach all the way to his spine.

He had suspected, but suspicion was one thing. Confronting physical proof of a legend was something else again. If Saren was correct – and in this if nothing else, Jareth was certain magic spoke true -his desire had done this. The half remembered fantasies of a boy and the need of the King had called this forth. And of all relationships, that between Air and Fire contained the most potential for passion and destruction. For all that Fire could consume, it was Air that fanned the flames.

His mother was Earth, and had never understood his obsession.

Looking at her now, he knew why those of Air who had ridden with the fallen had chosen to remain. She might be his destruction, but they would burn brightly before they went.

He had known the general form the magic would take when he phrased the offer he made to her. Power equal to his own. A weapon against Despair and a defense against the terrible potential his spell had written in a crystal dream. Jareth studied her features with a combination of wonder, consternation, and sheer terror. It had not occurred to him that the Labyrinth might have had its own agenda. But even had he known, he did not see how he could have acted differently.

Jareth had indeed taken council of his fears.

What else was a man to do when faced with the knowledge his love could literally destroy his world?

It had seemed like a harmless enough gesture. It was a difficult spell, The Mirror Blade, but was one with which Jareth had an unexpected mastery. In ancient times it had been used to test a potential monarch for unacceptable weaknesses before he could ascend the throne. In these modern times, rulers looked into the Mirror on the day they ascended their thrones, and learned priests spent weeks interpreting the images, using them to counsel the Kings on the fatal flaw running through each royal heart.

Jareth had only hours to search for answers.

It had been a mad impulse, born the moment he had sensed the dwarf's loyalty slipping away. Losing his head over a girl? How those prophetic words had come to haunt him. It was not the dwarf's vulnerability Jareth had exposed with those words and even now he could only shake his head at his own bedamned blindness. Yet even as he cursed her influence and mocked the dwarf, a part of himself which had thought itself sly and cunning indeed had wondered what sort of queen she might make.

He had never expected her to look into the Mirror and see his own face looking back.

It had never been done before. No one had ever been both caster and object of the Blade, and Jareth had found to his confusion and horror that he had no way of knowing which way the Mirror reflected. She had looked at him so...

He simply had not known what to believe. All he had known for certain was that magic did not give warnings lightly, and warnings about worlds falling down were ...slightly more than serious. His hurt and rage when she had rejected him and shattered the dream, his adolescent impulse to let her rot in the Junkyard until it pleased him to rescue her, all had been terrifying when he had a moment to reconsider. Even then, better nature had not prevailed until the Labyrinth itself snatched Toby from the goblins sent to hide him and placed him in the Room of Stairs.

That the Labyrinth itself worked against his will had frightened Jareth out of even his willful arrogance.

He had known then he dared not keep her.

So he let her go.

Jareth studied her face uncertainly. Was she his? Truly? He had feared...she had needed so much from him, in that dream. It had been clear that need could lead to disaster. As the world falls down. She had needed, and he would have given it to her, and the world would have crumbled around them. Perhaps it would have been because he protected her from becoming the woman the Labyrinth needed her to be. Perhaps it would have happened because she would demand too much, and prevent him from being the King he needed to be. He had had no time to decide and no one to ask.

So he let her go; off to become someone who didn't need him so badly.

He had damned himself with that act, or so he had thought. In spite of his attempts to impress her, Saren had spoken the truth when he accused Jareth of fearing more than a lack of forgiveness. The man he had been had let her go, something the girl would never have forgiven. The man he had become...he did not know if he was anything the woman she had become could admire. He had demanded strength. By his choice, by his deliberate selection of words, he forced her to become someone who would fight for her independence, someone who did not need to rely on him for her sense of worth even as he had taken her choices from her. He had feared to discover whether his ability to do so, if the man he had become so that he could do so, was nothing the stronger version of Sarah could love.

He still did not understand what it meant, that she had been chosen for him. If it was true now, it had been true then and the Mirror had still reflected warnings about golden sunrises and the death of worlds. Had his ignorance been the true danger? Or his fears? He had clung to the hope for so long that she might understand that his choice had been a sacrifice, that she might be able to find something good within it, and now he had nothing to offer but an accusation of cowardice and fear.

Beyond that, what parts of his dreams had the Land used to find her?

He had dreamed of many things, as the sky turned red.

Sarah stirred, and he felt the land retreat to a watchful distance. Even that much interest in outcome had him wondering just how important to its own survival the land considered Sarah. He held his breath as she stirred, her eyes opening slowly, the irises bled to silver.

The blades on her arms flexed slightly, then snapped open. He didn't move and when she pushed away from him, he did not try to hold her back. The land was green and quiet as she paced, and he watched warily as she circled him, her anger mounting.

He did not know how much of her remained in control and how much was buried beneath instinct and the demands of the land. Sarah could not have been prepared for the full force of the land pouring into her mind. In many ways, the land was instinct. Primitive demand. Death, Life, and Rebirth.

Need.

It was a good sign that she had not already tried to kill him. Either he had not attained the status of threat - yet - or there was enough of her human intelligence to control the animal instincts ruling her body. She would not be able to shift. It would be weeks, perhaps months or years before she consumed enough food to reach a proper level of mass. Even so, he resisted the urge to explain, to answer the accusation in her eyes.

When all was said, the magic was not the only one who needed to know how far she could be corrupted by a sense of power.

He moved his arms experimentally, and did not even see her move. One moment he was bracing to push himself to his feet, the next he was on his back, her body astride his, the blades of her right forearm pressing against the strong pulse in his neck. He froze, staring into silver eyes that seemed almost confused by her own reaction.

Perhaps he had been mistaken about his quality of threat.

Saren had been right about the effect of the land. The instincts should have partially released her by now. She had opened herself to the land and it was demanding that she fulfill the purpose for which she had been chosen. Jareth regarded her uneasily. The solution was easy enough. Give her what she needed.

It was unfortunate that this would complete the bond with the land.

Once she came back to herself, there was little he could do to defend himself against a child of fire, should the power take her. He still remembered the sense of intoxication and invulnerability those first few moments had given him. In that moment he had known he could have anything he wanted, take anything he wanted, and woe betide any who moved to stop him. If the dreams the land had sent had nurtured a feeling of helplessness, would she crumble with her first taste of power?

Perhaps there had been a tiny glimmer of compassion in Saren after all.

Her blood would stain his hands forever should he be forced to kill her.

Assuming he could.

Done and done however, his decision had already been made. He tilted his head back slowly, exposing his throat. He forced his hands to remain at his sides and he beat down his own instincts, the ones screaming at him to attack and flee. Barn owls might be deadly, but they flew from the larger of their own species. The Great Grey and the Eagle Owl. She leaned forward, her nostrils flaring slightly as she drank in his scent.

The blades pulled back against her arm with a snap and he breathed a cautious sigh of relief. She might kill him yet, but at least he would not be skewered by accident. Her eyes darted to his face as she sat back and she seemed momentarily distracted by his smile. He watched with interest as she reached forward to touch curious fingers to his lips. He nipped at them gently.

She yanked her hand away, and eyed him uncertainly, but did not retaliate. Or reciprocate. He quashed a slight feeling of disappointment and waited for her next move. Disappointingly she only shifted her hand to his hair, coiling one lock around her finger over and over, then drawing it free. Uncertain as to the reason for her fascination he watched a frown gather on her face as her fingers continued to comb through his wayward mane. The rough strands did not seem to bother her, but she seemed disturbed by something.

On impulse he threaded a shimmer of iridescent blue through the tangled mass and watched as her eyes widened with surprise and delight. He snorted. He might not have inherited the silky locks that pleased most women, but his ability to weave color through his hair never ceased to fascinate them. Still...if it pleased her, he was more than willing to comply. His resulting grin was a trifle smug, but luckily she did not appear to notice.

He raised his hand cautiously and touched a cautious finger to her lower lip. She did not protest as he rubbed it gently although she watched suspiciously when he followed a wandering line down her throat and across her chest. She snarled slightly and smacked his hand away when it reached her breast. He sighed. Apparently not.

She was still eyeing his hand so he pointedly rested it against his stomach and raised an eyebrow. She tilted her head curiously and he concentrated on looking harmless. To be truthful, he had more experience looking seductive, but the exercise would have been lost on her in any case. He wasn't altogether certain she had realized they were the same species.

More or less.

It would be unfortunate indeed if she decided that barn owls were edible.

She leaned forward suddenly and his eyes widened in momentary alarm, certain his errant thought had become reality. She planted both hands flat on the ground and lowered herself until her chin rested against his chest. Her silver eyes fixed on his face and he looked back, slightly unnerved by that unblinking stare.

Ballads were fine and dandy, he thought aggrieved, but why had they not included any useful information about the children of fire? It was rather depressing to admit that so far, the sum total of his seductive appeal seemed to be limited to the fact she liked the blue in his hair. She had not moved, and as far as he could tell, she hadn't blinked.

It was also rather confusing as the land seemed to be humming in contentment. As far as it was concerned everything was proceeding as planned. Jareth paused and considered that thought. Surely not. He cocked his head slightly and pulled his hand out from between their bodies and slowly placed both hands on her hips. She tightened the grip her knees had on his waist.

Well, well, well.

This was interesting.

He had thought the position defensive. But perhaps...? Morbidly certain it was a bad idea, he shifted his weight and when she did not react, rolled with her until she was pinned beneath him. He got a reaction, but it was not the one he half-expected.

Hissing she threaded her hands into his hair, yanking his head back, exposing his throat. He was certain he had made a fatal mistake as she twisted her head and sank her teeth into his flesh and growled. He could feel the vibration from his throat to his chest and he tensed awkwardly, careful to make no sudden moves she might interpret as an attack.

Her legs were wrapped tightly around his hips and with his mobility impaired he was not confident of his ability to dislodge her before she tore out his throat. Nor was he pleased with the grip she had on his hair. If those bone blades fanned out now, she would slice his head from his shoulders before he could figure out what he had done wrong.

The rumble against his skin was fading and he breathed a sigh of relief as she released him. A second later he felt her tongue against his skin, licking gently and he held himself motionless and unthreatening. Slowly she uncurled her fingers and when he hazarded a look down she was regarding him with a puzzled look on her face.

"While I'm perfectly willing to stay here all day if that is your wish, I fear you are going to have to give me a clue as to your desire in this matter," he informed her solemnly.

He didn't expect her to understand and was unsurprised when her only reaction was to the sound of his voice, not the content. Her eyes dropped to his throat momentarily and she hissed softly. Taking the warning to heart he didn't try to speak again. After several minutes of unblinking regard he narrowed his own eyes and decided to try something different. Eyeing her carefully he leaned down and saw her eyes widen as he nipped at her lower lip.

She hissed again uncertainly, then fell silent as he kissed a gentle path from her mouth to her ear. He felt a tremble go through her body and thought for a moment he had succeeded. Then her hands darted for his hair and he grabbed her wrists without thinking and pinned them above her head. She narrowed her eyes but limited her response to a short growl and a longing look at his throat.

Fortunately, she warned only, but he was somewhat at a loss as to how to proceed. He could only assume this was not a complete disaster as the land was still humming happily in his head. Releasing her wrists he gloomily considered the possibility they would still be at this a week from the morrow. He pulled himself upright and sat back on his heels. Then he regarded Sarah with curiosity.

She did not move, seemingly unconcerned about her vulnerable position. Had she simply been reacting to being pinned beneath his body? She blinked at him lazily and watched him with interest but no fear as he leaned forward slowly, resting his weight on one hand while he slowly touched the fingers of the other to her face. She regarded him steadily as he again traced his forefinger across her lower lip. She narrowed her eyes abruptly and he almost jerked his hand away in surprise as she nipped it.

The look in her eyes was sly, and he was wondering just what she had intended by copying his earlier invitation when her hand flashed out and she slammed her wrist into his, knocking his arm out from under him. He ducked his chin instinctively but he wasn't expecting such a decisive attack. His initial reaction was slow, concerned as he was he would injure her as he fell. She grunted when his chest impacted hers, but she had her fingers in his hair and her teeth at his throat before he could defend himself.

He had caught himself clumsily, off-balance with trying to avoid her reaching hands. As she pulled his head back, exposing his throat further, he shifted frantically, focused on the teeth at his throat. He didn't notice that he was pushing against her hip to hip until she tilted her pelvis to increase the contact and used her legs to pull him closer.

He froze, then blinked in astonished surprise.

She growled contentedly.

For one stunned moment he did not know whether to curse or laugh hysterically. Experimentally he pulled her head away from his throat as he thrust against her. She resisted, but released him before her teeth could draw blood. Cursing himself for three kinds of fool he wondered what sort of idiot she would think him once she started thinking again. She hissed unhappily until he hooked his elbows under her knees and pulled her knees higher. She fell silent, looking briefly uncertain, then he flexed his hips, rubbing against her boldly, and she growled softly, his intent clear enough to satisfy instinct.

His armor was designed to accommodate male anatomy, and he had wondered how she would react to any attempt to remove her own. Fortunately, it was not necessary. Her armor anticipated need, reacting to the demands of her body and it parted easily when Jareth reached to touch her, testing her readiness. She hissed impatiently as he guided himself to her, then he was inside her body and inside her mind and the land poured itself through them, binding them, and knitting up the edges.

He felt her feral satisfaction as he found his own, then he felt her mind stir at last as the land released them. He felt her shock at what was happening, her confusion, and her anger. He hesitated over that last, not understanding as it seemed bright and jagged with betrayal, not tinged with the feeling of powerlessness Saren had warned him to expect. He wondered if she regretted not being able to chose the time of her closer binding to the land and promised himself he would show her that the binding could be a thing of joy, now that she had the senses to feel it.

Assuming she survived.


	28. Chapter 28

She had a tooth extracted once. She never even felt the anesthetic hit. One moment she was staring at the ceiling wondering what it would feel like, the next, the dentist was removing the clamps from her jaw. The thing she always remembered later was the lack of awkwardness of the transition. Some part of her mind had known what was going on even if her conscious mind had no memory of it. She had felt calm, comfortable, and not confused at all. 

Still, this wasn't waking to find strange fingers in her mouth.

She knew what she had done. There was no confusion there. She was not even angry; she had a clear understanding of what he had done, and why. The murmur of the land welled up from deep inside her mind, a dizzying spiral of welcome and joy that was almost intoxicating. She had to fight to keep herself from falling into that green scented embrace, but there was no threat there. Ruthless purpose, yes. All in the name of survival. She could feel the massed unconscious desires of thousands upon thousands of tiny lives woven into a single will. Welcome and understanding and...on the far reaches of her mind, an almost mindless hunger that would have driven her to her knees had she been standing.

She looked into the eyes so close to her own and felt tears start.

"It knows it's crazy," she told him, hoping he would tell her she was wrong.

He looked startled, then his eyes darkened with pain.

She closed her eyes, the piteous cry in her mind a wail in the darkness, every child's terror of the monster under the bed. Every man's fear of loss. She had thought of Despair only in terms of an unstoppable enemy, but land was still land, and it had recognized Jareth. It was crazy, no doubt; but some part of it knew it was broken and wanted to come home. It hurt to separate from the longing reaching for them and Jareth held her as she cried.

She cried for the land. She cried for the lost child of war, still crying in the night. She cried for the ripped and twisted potential, all that the goblins could have been and never would be again. And she cried for herself, for the lack of regret in Jareth's mind over what he had done. She did not even have the comfort of lying to herself that he regretted what had been necessary. She had felt the touch of his mind in those first few moments of awakening and besides relief that the binding was done, there had mostly been a sense of satisfaction within him for the fact she had been willing to let herself be seduced.

Not, she thought bitterly, that it had taken much.

Her animal self was a bit of a slut.

He had not been intentionally cruel. The indignity that made her humiliation complete was, mindless or not, her body still shivered with the echoes of a pleasure that had been more physically satisfying than any of her experiences Above. This, in spite of the fact he had been fairly businesslike about the whole thing. He hadn't taken the opportunity to do more than what had been necessary and she might have credited him with some sense of right and wrong except there had been no indication in his mind that he felt any regret at either the restriction or the situation.

She wasn't sure which bothered her more.

When she opened her eyes she saw Jareth watching her. No shadows, no passion, and still no regret. She would have preferred any emotion other than the open curiosity with which he regarded her, especially when she realized her legs were still locked around his hips. She supposed dealing with semi-sentient magic could cause anyone to overlook a lot of things, but that didn't make it any easier to pull away gracefully. Especially when the man in question did not seem cognizant of the fact there was anything wrong.

In fact, his matter of fact attitude was beginning to get on her nerves.

It didn't get any better as she watched him put his armor to rights while she fumbled with an embarrassing opening in her own that would not seal properly. Jareth seemed oblivious to her growing anger as he helpfully advised her how to deal with the new changeability of her clothes. The bone blades on her arms kept fluttering uneasily and she almost sliced herself somewhere awkward until Jareth pulled her arms away from her body and she was forced to stand quietly as he knelt to fix her armor with a casual grin.

Determined to ignore the feel of his hands in impolite places she kept her gaze locked on the tree line and focused on the events that led up to her being in this humiliating position in the first place.

Saren, of course.

She spoke before she could sensor the question.

"Why you?"

Jareth froze and she dropped her eyes to gaze at his bent head as he rested on one knee in front of her. She should have been uncomfortable with the suggestiveness of the position and the fact he was just too damn close for comfort. However, she discovered it was impossible to feel like she had a sexual identity while being treated like a toddler being helped into her snowsuit.

"Saren was the companion, I assume."

Jareth nodded shortly without looking up.

Sarah found herself nodding in response, not really surprised. "I didn't realize he'd seem so real," she heard herself say calmly.

Jareth stood slowly, then met her eyes steadily." He was real."

She tilted her head curiously, still feeling strangely numb.

"He was the ...physical manifestation of the magic,"Jareth said quietly.

"Then why appear as you?" she asked again. There was something there, something beyond the fact she physically desired Jareth to an insane degree. Something the land had told her. Something about...

...her dreams.

Her eyes narrowed.

Jareth dropped his head. Whether he intended it or not, he seemed uncharacteristically uncertain as he peered through a spiky fall of hair. For a moment he resembled nothing more than some feral animal peering warily from the bushes.

"Saren sent those dreams," she said slowly." He was using them to..." she trailed off as she remembered the increasing feeling of helplessness the dreams had generated. The anger at herself as Jareth grew increasingly cruel and still her body responded. The fear. The helplessness. The self-loathing.

Anger stirred and that was when she realized that was exactly how she was supposed to react. Just another test. It was about power, and the murmured agreement of the land told her she was right. The gentler images of Jareth had come from the land. She got that. She just did not understand why it had bothered. She also did not understand the thread of anger woven through the inner murmur.

"Sarah..." Jareth said slowly," the land can be possessive." His mouth tightened as she looked blank.

"What are you trying to tell me?" she asked finally.

He sighed. "I dreamt about having enough power to defeat Despair. Apparently the nature of those dreams were specific enough for the land to find you." He reached out and ran a finger down her cheek. "A child of fire," he murmured softly. "The Labyrinth sent you the book. I knew, but I did not understand I was meant to keep you." He smiled tightly," The land was not happy when I sent you away."

Sarah shook her head in immediate protest," You didn't send me anywhere. Jareth, I won."

His eyes were abruptly haunted with the shadows she had been looking for earlier," No, Sarah. You did not."

He cupped her chin and studied her expression. "Your eyes can be so cruel...do you know how you looked at me that night on the stairs? I had stolen your brother and still you looked for the dream in my eyes," he murmured." Instead, I warned you. The Labyrinth has its own rules to follow and demanded that much. I warned you, then I led you to your brother." He smiled mockingly, eyes unhappy. "See how heroic I was?"

She pulled her face away and he let his hand fall.

"What was the catch?" she asked wearily.

He did not smile.

She studied his face, then started to shake her head." No...it was a trick. You just wanted to win."

"I knew what words you would use, Sarah. The old dream that formed the Labyrinth demanded only that you deny me. I did not have to offer anything else. But I needed you, and only the Labyrinth could give you the power you would need. I did not know what its plans for you included, but it would not have changed my decision. "Jareth leaned forward and she shivered as his breath touched the shell of her ear."I told you I could be cruel."

He did not have to explain the rest. She gave away her dreams and inherited...what? Magic and a chance to spend her life fighting Despair.

"So you got what you wanted all along," she said, too stunned to feel bitter. Yet.

Jareth eyed her for a moment, then shrugged. "I won a child of fire and the land was not best pleased when I gave her away. It took...steps, to get you back."

"The dreams," Sarah said hollowly.

Jareth nodded.

Ten years of sensual, heart-breaking, overly vivid dreams. "Was any of it real?" she asked numbly." Did any of it belong to me?" she elaborated when he appeared not to understand.

He finally shrugged again after an overly long pause." I do not know."

She started to laugh and when the bitter laughter turned to gasps he shifted uneasily and watched her from emotionless eyes. When tears started to fall, he did not move and she didn't try to stop them. All those years. At least when she had thought she was in love with him it had belonged to her. She might be crazy, but there had been hope. She could fall out of love. She could grow up enough for him to come find her. She could go out in a blaze of glory and her worries would be over.

Option C, of course, was still on the table.

Christ. In love with a chimera. He didn't exist. The man she loved was a creation born in the collective mind of a sentient magic that just wanted to survive. If Jareth needed a child of fire to get the job done, the land would craft him a child of fire. She supposed that it was odd she resented the artificial nature more than the dreams themselves. It was unlikely that even if the dreams had totally been her own that the image of Jareth would have been any more accurate. But at least they had been hers to own. The Jareth in them might be a fantasy, but...

He had been her fantasy, and she had always thought she could trust her instincts.

"Sarah...?"

She could not believe how much this hurt.

Worse, he had known all this and had felt nothing. No loss. No anger. Not even embarrassed discomfort. She had been emotionally manipulated, he had played center-stage in her most private fantasies, and if that brief touch of his mind was correct, it had not affected him beyond a feeling of weariness. For one moment, she could have sworn she hated him. Unfortunately, she could not hurt someone for not loving her.

No matter how much something inside raged and screamed.

Jareth's expression was remote as he looked at her, then he surprised her by stepping so close she could almost feel the heat from his skin. He raised both hands and tilted her head back gently, thumbs pressing lightly against her cheekbones, hands framing her face. He searched her face, his own face as bland and blank as any of the glamour of the High Court.

"Is there anything I could say right now that you would believe, Sarah?"

She felt semi-hysterical laughter bubble inside. She let him see the pain in her eyes," I can't believe my own dreams, Jareth. You tell me."

Alien eyes studied her face, then he nodded. He reached for her left hand and raised it until she could see her own fingers. His thumb caressed the ring on her finger and his eyes were gold as he looked at her. "This oath binds us, me to you, you to me. You are not alone, Sarah. Believe this if nothing else."

She wished he did not know her so well. Even as childish fears relaxed, something else muttered cynically that she was being played. That he was simply making sure his fire child did not cut and run. She smiled bitterly and with a sense of loss.

"That's not enough anymore."


	29. Chapter 29

Whatever he might have said was lost as the world abruptly turned white around them. Barely had his feet touched solid ground when a roar sounded behind him and he spun gratefully drawing his sword as he twisted, instincts eager for bloodshed. Sarah had no idea how close he was to losing control, and he did not have any plan to tell her. He did not need to remind her how far from human he could be. She seemed shocked and disgusted enough by her own emerging instincts. He had no desire to see those emotions turn to fear.

His own anger at what the land had forced on him beat and pummeled at what was left of his control. She had accepted him. Some part of her still trusted him. He could build on that, but he did not know if it would be enough to overcome the fury and betrayal he had sensed when she had come back to herself. The land had poured through her mind, invading and binding without permission. He had known of her dreams of course; they had been inevitable given her age and what she had seen in the Mirror Blade. He had thought them only echoes of the magic and the unrelenting physical nature of them had told him nothing beyond the fact she was still too young to approach. All those years, he had hoped it was only youth.

To find now that the land was responsible, that even that much of her attention had been manipulated left him with nothing and no way to apologize. What could he have done differently? He had had no choice but to send her away, given the warning in the Blade. The binding with the land had been inevitable as soon as the land woke feral instinct and truthfully, he could not regret any ties that might bind her closer to the Goblin Kingdom. Whatever Sarah might never now feel for its King, the Kingdom needed its Champion. But the thought that she might hate him for failing to protect her should have hurt more and that worried him.

Pain would have been preferable to this eerie acceptance he felt.

In his passion, Jareth was pure Sidhe, and acceptance was often the calm before the storm. Animal instincts knew he had been threatened and longed to lash out at that which had wounded him. While not blameless, the land would not understand. It knew only that it had found him what he needed: a child of fire, and a mate with the strength to hold the Goblin Crown. It would not understand that its efforts to bring her back to him had destroyed something precious, a thing of value only to Jareth, not the Goblin King. If he ever turned his growing rage against the land he would lose more than a dream he had hardly dared to admit to owning.

The land had been injured far too much already.

Finishing his turn, sheer luck held his strike long enough for him to actually see that which challenged him. Avian instincts shrieked again, this time in reflex terror as a hissing demon roared toward him, wings spread wide, teeth gleaming. From the corner of his eyes he could see panic -stricken warriors slamming defensive magic across the courtyard only to watch it bounce harmlessly off the mere-dragon's hide. The lizard ignored the warriors and plunged to a halt just in time to knock Sarah off her feet with one swing of his armor plated head.

Jareth sighed.

Behind Sarah, the mare shook her mane in disgust as the lizard rested his jaw on Sarah's chest and pinned her to the ground. Almost, the stunned expressions on the faces peering around the walls of the courtyard repaired Jareth's humor. Almost. He sheathed his sword feeling cheated.

"I take it we're not in any danger," Jiann remarked dryly as she appeared beside him.

Jareth gave a disgruntled snort. The lizard's eyes were rolled back in his head and he growled contentedly as Sarah scratched his eye ridges. Shameless really. Jareth tried to ignore the longing that shot through him as he watched her smile at the lizard's antics.

"I doubt it," Jareth said, irritated.

Jiann shuddered as if settling feathers. "He walked into the courtyard several days ago carrying this."

Jareth looked without surprise at the cloak in her hands. Black chased in amber.

"That must have been interesting." He eyed her curiously."What did grandfather do?"

"He was polite to them,"Jiann said sourly.

Jareth blinked. "Them?"

"He has a friend."

Jareth could not stop the malicious grin that birthed itself as he thought of the consternation of the Court. Mere-dragons were a plague best handled with spell-wrought blades and magic. Mere-dragons carrying Champion gifts must have been awkward in the extreme. No one would be so bold as to suggest killing them. Unfortunately for the Court's peace of mind, outside of Fire, few Sidhe magics affected mere-dragons. Not even crazed magic. It was one of the things that had made them so effective as the companions of the children of fire.

He eyed the puppy that had appeared out thin air to settle itself against his feet and shook his head. Perhaps he should have told her about the mere-dragons, but he had wanted so much for the possibility to be real. He had not wanted to do anything that might jeopardize the Trial. The very fact that the magic had manifested directly had...

"Jareth...?"

He turned his head to see his mother staring at him uncertainly. He tilted his head questioningly.

Jiann was staring at his armor with an odd look on her face. She smiled awkwardly,"I am not used to seeing you dressed as a warrior."

Jareth blinked and thought of the number of times she had not seen him ride into the Goblin City covered in blood.

"Perhaps I'm tired of pretending,"he said finally.

She smiled hesitantly and reached to touch his hair, a strange look in her eyes. "You could almost have stepped from that tapestry you admire so much,"she said wonderingly.

He couldn't stop the flinch and watched her eyes darken with concern. He forced a smile,"How appropriate then." He let his gaze fall to where Sarah was extricating herself from the mere-dragon and was attempting to introduce him to the mare. Jareth heard her clearly state that horses of any kind were not food.

Jiann looked at Sarah with a disconcerting lack of surprise. It wasn't until she looked back him and reconsidered the feral edge fairly vibrating from his skin that the interest gave way to concern.

"Jareth...?"

"I need to speak with Grandfather,"he said roughly.

Jiann nodded slowly, agreeing silently to the request that she see Sarah settled, but he could feel her worried gaze on his back as he headed across the courtyard.

Time for this thing to end.

* * *

Impulse prodded at her and she looked up just in time to see Jareth step past his mother and stalk toward the castle. He had just reached the far side where several warriors of the High Court were propping up stone walls. She was not aware then of turning to watch them, nor was she aware the mere-dragon had turned to watch with her. Her vision flexed and she saw the warriors glance up at Jareth, body language edging with the slightest hint of contempt as they recognized him.

Her lip curled slightly in a silent snarl when Jareth slowed unexpectedly, head turning toward the lounging warriors.

The five warriors straightened their spines and to her suddenly monochrome vision three of them appeared to realize suddenly what they faced. Her altered vision had shifted Jareth's hair to silver and she grinned mirthlessly as she admired his lean form clad in dragonscale. The lethal grace. The wild riot of his hair as the tangled ends brushed his shoulders. She grinned again, a reflection of his own bare-toothed smile and she shivered with delight at the quiet menace of him.

She was amused until one of the warriors reached for his sword.

Outrage exploded and she shrieked in rage and the land screamed with her. Black anger reached for her and she reached back in cold fury. Despair, exiled and denied, lent itself eagerly in attack.

* * *

Jareth's face went white as the rocks beneath his feet trembled. He sensed Despair swirling oddly, then the stones under the two who had challenged him exploded upward. The two warriors lay where they had fallen, dazed and unaware of the destruction racing toward them. Jareth spun, knowing what he would see. Even knowing, his heart froze momentarily as silver-eyed death streaked across the courtyard, a snarling mere-dragon on her heels.

The three who had backed away fumbled for their weapons knowing only that magic choked the courtyard and a mere-dragon hissed and plunged toward the grandson of the High King.

"Sarah, no!"

He shouted the words, the effort futile but he had to try. Her bone blades were fully extended and her eyes were feral. Too soon. Too damn soon. They should never have been dumped into a situation so fraught with tension this quickly after the first awakening of her instincts and the magic should have known better. The two on the ground did not even know they were dead and the taste of their blood might inflame her to the point of bringing the castle crashing down around them.

He reached desperately for the strands of time and twisted.

Slow. Too slow.

Too much magical protection. Barriers upon barrier, centuries of magic bent to the protection of the High Court. How ironic if that very protection was to be the cause of his failure. Jareth felt his own snarl rip from his throat as he stretched every ounce of magical skill to its limit, every year spent walking time between Underground and Above coming to his aid.

It might be just enough.

As time slowed he launched himself into the air with a cry. He was aware of faces turning toward him with shock; motion slowed and too close to disaster. He hit her chest hard and shrieked as one wing shattered with the impact. Bone blades snapped back against her forearms just in time to keep from running him through and her arms closed protectively around him.

He went limp with relief for instincts that controlled armor at the speed of reflex.

She adjusted her grip as she went to one knee and glared around her, hissing and screaming in angry warning. Bone blades fanned back out forming a defensive cage around him. Avian instincts wanted to find a place dark to hide, and the pain sent shudders through his body. The land buffered what it could and Jareth stayed limp, betting her instincts would not let her release him while he was wounded and bloody. Nor would they let her take him into battle. Physically, the warriors were safe for the moment, but Jareth was concerned at how readily Despair had answered her call.

The Court was not in the habit of remembering he was land-bound.

Of course, he had preferred not to remind them.

Warrior after warrior materialized in the courtyard and the mere-dragon who had taken position between Sarah and the two warriors on the ground started lashing his tail dangerously. Sarah's mare was screaming from across the courtyard and Jareth could only pray the stallion could keep her from attacking. He had no hope she might come to herself before Sarah's instincts released her. The battle fury of a warhorse when its rider went feral was the stuff of legend.

Jareth decided he could do with a little less legend and a lot more sanity.

He felt a shift in the land's attention and recognized the touch of his grandfather. For a moment he thought it was over. Through those sworn to him, the High King was bound to all the land of the Sidhe Kingdoms. Jareth felt the High King reach for her, then twitched uneasily when, instead of introducing himself, his grandfather began closing her connection to the land. Jareth flexed a mental hand and pushed back gently, communicating that this was not wise. At best she would be injured; at worst she could rebel with disastrous consequences.

He felt his mother's concern as the land reacted with uncertainty and Jareth wondered just what the High King thought he was doing, playing games like this with a child of fire. It was when he felt his grandfather's confusion as Sarah resisted his manipulations that Jareth realized his grandfather had no idea what Sarah had become. Nor, he suspected, did he understand what the land had invested in Sarah.

He fluttered his working wing furiously.

This time, the mental hand he slapped up against his grandfather's shields was not gentle. Either his grandfather was ignoring him, or he could not differentiate between Jareth and Sarah that deep into the connection with the land. He had to have felt it when Sarah was bound to the land. What did he think would happen...?

Jareth paused and his body stilled as he considered that his grandfather might be acting with purpose.

Champion, Jareth had accepted, and bonded mate was a two-fold connection. Sarah's acceptance by the land was unusually strong. He reached for his grandfather and caught a hint of desperation and terror before shields tossed him out. That touch was enough. The High King sensed Despair through her and had no idea that it was helping her willingly. The High King thought she was corrupted, lost to the magic-and he clearly doubted Jareth's strength if he truly believed Jareth had fallen with her. Jareth's grandfather was determined to cut her connection to the land if he had to kill her to do it.

Jareth could have screeched with angry frustration.

Really, these threats to his Champion were getting excessive.

Sarah's magic welcomed him as he drove his own magic straight through her connection to the land, dragging her with him. He was neither gentle nor reasonable when he tossed his grandfather out of her mind and blew their connection to the land wide open. Welcome and confusion greeted him as his own kingdom reached for him.

The Labyrinth Kingdom had never been large, but the Sidhe had abandoned a land area larger than all the Inner Kingdoms combined when they fled Despair and technically it belonged to the Goblin Kingdom. It might be crazy, but it too wanted to survive. Sarah had aroused it and it might yet swallow them whole, but for the first time in millennia, Despair answered the call of its King. It was not how he had intended this to happen, but he had long ago recognized it might be inevitable. The Inner Kingdoms had spent so many years drawing back from the Goblin Kingdom they had not realized that eventually the favor might be returned. Jareth felt his grandfather torn loose and sent spinning back to the Inner Kingdoms as the Goblin Kingdom rejected the High King.

The land beneath heaved in shock and Jareth heard his grandfather scream as the Goblin Kingdom tore itself free of the Sidhe Kingdoms.

Ignoring the heightened sensations pouring through him, Jareth focused on Sarah. Her reflexes were temporarily stunned by the enormity of what had happened and were still caught up in the unnatural focus the land had created with Jareth at its heart. For the moment, he had her complete attention. Shifting back, he ignored the pain in his broken arm and twisted his body to pin her securely before she could realize what he had done. Threading his good hand into her hair he yanked her head back and sank his teeth into her throat before she could react.

Her reflexes froze as they tried to reconcile threat with this new development.

He growled and prayed her reflexes trusted him enough to accept his judgment that no threat existed. She twitched uncertainly as the pain in his arm reached her through her connection to the Goblin Kingdom, but at least the break was less severe in human form. The bones did not break the skin. Luckily. The scent of his blood would probably be more than her defensive instincts could accept.

She was going to need time to adjust, he thought grimly.

A soft flow of healing magic seeped into his body and although she was not part of it, the Goblin Kingdom still recognized Jiann as a friend. Sarah relaxed further as his pain eased. As her perception of threat diminished, the land let them go and energy drained away. Jareth turned his head and caught his mother's concerned gaze as exhaustion claimed them both.

"Don't separate us," he told her as Sarah passed out.

He managed to stay conscious long enough to see his mother nod. Then the world floated away.


	30. Chapter 30

The sun was warm on her back and Sarah did not know if the sudden impulse to stretch out on the garden bench was human reflex...or something else. She brooded on the thought as she watched the mere-dragon playing Pounce-on-the-Shadow. His mate was deliberately ignoring him as he tried to entice her into admiring his antics. The female mere-dragon yawned, but Sarah caught a hint of amusement that suggested she was not as oblivious to him as she would have him think.

Sarah was unaware of frowning until Jiann sat beside her and looked at her with concern. She wiped the frown away and tried to smile pleasantly. They all looked at her with concern these days. The warriors, the courtiers, even the High King. She could have ignored them all if she had not caught the same concern lurking in Jareth's eyes in the week since her aborted attempt to slaughter the High Court.

Just a little murderous rage, folks.

Really, she had no idea at all why they were alarmed.

"What bothers you so?"

Incredulous laughter would probably be considered impolite. Sarah sighed and wondered if she could even list all the things that bothered her at the moment. Jareth's absence over the past few days. His presence. The wary way the courtiers kept her at a distance. The fact she had been a hair's breadth from killing everyone in sight, then not ten minutes later wanting nothing more than to do the wild thing in a public courtyard in spite of Jareth's broken arm and a couple dozen witnesses. Add in ten years of dream-induced lust; the fact that she was as good as married to the man of her dreams-who didn't apparently exist; the knowledge that Jareth was perfectly capable of having casual non-reflex-induced sex with her mindless body; and last but not least, at least two magical authorities had tried to execute her as a threat to Jareth and the Sidhe Kingdoms, that last having inadvertently ripped said Kingdom in half, leaving Jareth the nominal High King of the Labyrinth Kingdom-and her its slightly psychotic Champion.

Definitely not something she could blame on PMS, she thought gloomily.

At her side, Jiann sighed. "Perhaps small steps will solve the larger issue. What bothers you so about the mere-dragons?"

Sarah winced.

"Sarah," Jiann persisted gently," you come out here every day and stare at them. If there is aught I can tell you to set your mind at ease, please let me."

Sarah wondered if it was that easy. She had only just been able to put her own troubled thoughts into some semblance of order. She wasn't sure she was ready to put them into words. There were so many things all balled up together.

She hesitated, then tipped her chin toward the female mere-dragon.

"Do you know what he offered her?"

Jiann blinked, then looked obediently at the mere-dragon. Sarah did not bother waiting for her confused question.

"A safe den and food. That's it. That's why she came with him. Why she stays with him, and if he's killed, she'll have a momentary regret, then she'll find another male to offer her the same thing."

"Sarah,"Jiann said carefully," she is an animal. A smart one, true. But just an animal."

Sarah flinched. "But I'm not," she said softly.

Jiann looked puzzled." Child, I wish I could say I understand, but you will need to be a bit more explicit."

The anger that had been brewing inside her, the stuff she had been trying desperately to talk herself out of feeling because anger was bad, very bad at this point in her life, began to break free. She stood up and paced. Jiann's worried incomprehension, so similar to the way Jareth had looked after the binding with the land, did nothing to cool the emotions she was trying to control.

"Every time Jareth gets within thirty feet of me, it's all I can do to keep from dragging him to the floor." Or pinning him to the wall. Or hauling him back to her room. She grinned mirthlessly and had the satisfaction of seeing Jiann's eyes widen in shock. "And that doesn't begin to address what I want to do to any woman he might be talking to." She saw Jiann's pupils dilate and knew her eyes had gone silver.

The High King had offered her a choice of garments, dresses and the like. Sarah had politely refused, finding that the armor suited her mood. The flexing of the bone blades kept people at a safe distance. She glared at Jiann, knowing she was only a handy substitute. Hell, she didn't even know who or what she was most angry at: the land for manipulating her, the labyrinth for stuffing some out of control slut of an animal inside her skin without her permission, or Jareth for not living up to what his eyes had promised in that crystal dream.

Strange how she was back to hating him, and the reason was the same it had always been.

The tears started then, and even as she wiped them away, she wanted to curl up and wish the world away. The last straw was Jiann's confused sympathy as she wrapped an arm tentatively around her shoulders. All the anger and pain and confusion let go and she cried for everything she could not have and the fact that no one understood she had lost something.

"I want to go home," she whispered painfully." I want this nightmare to go away."

She became aware of the sudden tension in Jiann's body and looked around almost fatalistically. Given her new connection to the land, privacy was pretty much a lost cause these days. From the shadows of the garden, Jareth watched her emotionlessly. Raw pain and fury cascaded through her as he simply looked at her, not moving.

"Go away," she said bitterly. Then she pulled herself from Jiann's arms, rage at the stirring of her body at the mere sight of him igniting a raw fury she had not even realized she was capable of feeling. Crystal shattered against his chest before she was even aware she had conjured it, let alone threw it.

He did not even flinch. "Sarah, you must control yourself."

She laughed, the ugly sound harsh to her own ears." Why? Afraid I'll go out and eat someone? Better than the alternative. Not that you'd care. You got what you wanted. "

Both of them were looking at her as if she was losing her mind and she wanted to scream at the careful way they were watching her. Jareth's expression was assessing and his own control in the face of her loss of it, made it worse. Shame and anger briefly warred for supremacy. She could accept that he had done what was necessary; she could not change how she felt about it.

"I will not apologize for doing what was necessary," he said finally. "I regret the fact you do not appear to have found any joy in the binding."

"Joy?" she did not even recognize the tone of her own voice. "It might as well have been rape, you bastard."

Jareth's face paled and for one moment she thought she had gotten through to him. His hands curled slowly into fists, then relaxed. "I regret that your introduction to the land could not have been kinder."

Rage died abruptly, leaving a cold empty space that ached deep inside her. Kinder? How could he possibly have made the knowledge that he felt nothing for her, that she was nothing more than a pawn, kind? It truly had made no difference to him, the fact her mind had notbeen present.

"What difference would it have made?" she asked, defeated. "I still would have learned the truth."

After a long moment, he nodded polite acknowledgement of that fact. He said nothing further and his presence made her itch.

"Jareth, please. Just...leave me alone right now."

He hesitated." Until you can control your reflexes, Sarah, you are a potential danger to others."

She looked at him wearily," Do you have any idea how I despise what I have become?"

Jareth blinked slowly, then dropped his gaze to her left hand," You have responsibilities, Sarah."

As if she would ever be allowed to forget.

"Don't worry about it," she said bitterly, staring blindly at her hand." You won't lose your Champion. I might not be able to stop this stupid animal of mine from wanting to roll over and show her throat, but it wouldn't mean anything. Any more than it meant anything with you."

This time, when she looked up, the shadows were empty.

"I had not thought you capable of being that cruel."

Sarah started, having forgotten Jiann was even there. She turned to see Jareth's mother looking pale, eyes wide and strained.

"I had a good teacher," Sarah heard herself say.

Then she stilled, honesty closing her eyes and dropping her head." That...was not fair,"she said, the words bitter on her tongue.

Jiann stood abruptly, settling her cloak with a snap. Her face, still pale, was set." Do you intend to destroy my son, Sarah? Will that please you, for what the land has done to you?"

Sarah blinked, the thread of the conversation lost. "The land? What does the land have to do with anything?"

Jiann tightened her lips,"Jareth may have been responsible for the form the land chose for you, but he did not deliberately set out to alter your destiny. I am sorry if the form displeases you, because we have spent millennia regretting the loss of the children of fire. If you can find it in your heart to forgive him for what the land demands of him, Jareth will deny you nothing should you but ask. You can be happy here, Sarah." her voice was pleading now.

Sarah, meanwhile, was still trying to figure out where exactly the conversation had headed for the Twilight Zone.

Seeing the confusion in her eyes, Jiann rushed on, intent on persuasion."It will not be an easy life, that is true, but surely one who battles fire cannot find that a hard thing to accept. And Jareth can be gentle, if you give him a chance." A shadow momentarily darkened her eyes, and she continued more slowly."Sarah, your reflexes trust him. Do you not understand how much hope that has given him these last few days? If you cannot forgive him yet, can you at least let him please you?"

Sarah stared with disbelief at Jiann's earnest expression and decided they had missed the Twilight Zone and headed straight for Wonderland.

"I'm high. Or stoned. Or just plain crazy," she muttered.

Jiann reached slowly for her arm and touched it gently,"Sarah, you stand balanced in the centre of Fire the same way Jareth stands in the center of Air. He is as much a child of air and you are of fire, your perfect close-complement, and that makes him vulnerable. Perhaps more vulnerable than you know, given his upbringing. If you cannot love him, child, for the sake of all those who depend on the Goblin Kingdom to hold back Despair, try not to hate him."

Sarah closed her eyes and tried decide if she was more insulted or more appalled. She took a deep breath, and kept telling herself that Jiann was not human. Maybe it was just a cultural misunderstanding.

"I have no intention of abandoning the Goblin Kingdom. Jareth doesn't have to prostitute himself to get me to stay." She opened her eyes to see Jiann frown.

Sarah cocked her head slightly."Did I misunderstand what you meant about letting him please me?"

Jiann gave a helpless gesture with her hands,"It would please him to please you, child. It is little enough to ask. You desire him do you not?"

Resentment flared.

Jiann's expression shifted suddenly and Sarah was startled when her gaze hardened.

"Or perhaps it is the fact he is not human that bothers you."

Sarah almost snorted at the accusation and held up one hand and saw Jiann take in the quivering bone blades. "That would be a bit hypocritical of me, now wouldn't it?" she asked, torn between bitterness and wry humor. Of all the things that bothered her about Jareth, his humanity or lack of it didn't even make the list. She recalled his feral smile and spiky hair, the odd markings on his face and the alien cast of his features that took her so much by surprise sometimes. Her stomach clenched tightly and her fingers clenched.

No, the fact he was not human was not an issue.

Jiann's expression was remote as she studied Sarah's face. Then her skin rippled oddly and Sarah blinked uncertainly. Surely that had been an illusion. No one's skin moved like that. Sarah paused, and reconsidered the thought going through her head. No one human.

"Jareth was not human enough for his father and was too human for the High Court,"Jiann said softly, as if to herself.

Sarah felt an unwilling stab of sympathy for what it must have been like, raising a child rejected by both halves of his heritage. She sighed and reached to touch Jiann's hand."He doesn't hate what he is, Jiann. You must have done something right."

Jiann pinned her with a sad look,"Do you truly dislike what you have become, Sarah?"

Sarah sighed."I hate being out of control. I hate the fact my body has a mind of its own."

Jiann flexed her shoulders uneasily. "It has been so long since the children of fire went into the desert."Her voice trailed off.

"At least flying will be cool," Sarahmumbled, trying to find a happy note in this disaster." Jareth said I'd be able to shift as soon as I build up enough mass." She quirked her lips wryly at the remembered looks of disbelief on the face of the Court this morning. True, her appetite had been a bit excessive even for her. But not by much.

Jiann eyed her contemplatively," You will want to have Jareth bring you to the Court for the first shift. It will be painful, the first time."

"Why doesn't that surprise me," Sarah muttered.

"Perhaps next year..." Jiann stuttered to a halt at Sarah's shocked look.

"Next year? Just how much mass does an owl need?"

Jiann's eyes rounded,"Owl? Sarah, child, have you lost your wits? You are a child of fire."

Sarah looked at her uncertainly, "But I get to fly, right?"

The sudden terror she might not have wings caught her by surprise.

Jiann's expression went blank. "Wings? Of course you'll have wings." She tilted her head, eyes shifting rapidly between human blue and a dark brown that Sarah had assumed was avian.

"Okay," Sarah said uncertainly. What else had wings? "Falcon? Hawk?" she asked as Jiann's expression grew more bemused.

Whatever she was turning into was aggressive as hell. And Jiann had already suggested it was big. What...? Oh, ew.

"Tell me I'm not a vulture," she demanded.

Jiann had collapsed back onto the garden bench and was watching her dazedly. Finally, she shook herself and stared at the younger woman unblinking.

"Sarah, what has Jareth told you?"

She was beginning to get worried. And annoyed. But worry was paramount. What the hell else could go wrong?

"The same as you, a child of fire."

Jiann placed a hand up to her face and murmured, "Oh my."

Her eyes had begun to dance with mirth and the knot tightened in Sarah's stomach began to relax. Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad. Unless...

Oh crap. Aggressive, big, and had wings.

"Ostrich?" she asked, cringing.

Jiann started to laugh helplessly. It took her a moment to get her amusement under control and Sarah wasn't certain she liked the malicious gleam, the very familiar malicious gleam, growing in her eyes.

"Child," Jiann said gently, "the children of fire were _dragons_."


	31. Chapter 31

"Why didn't you tell me I was turning into a big lizard?"

Jareth blinked at her, obviously caught off guard by the sight of her lounging in his doorway. She had meticulously avoided his room and this was the first time she had seen it. When he said nothing, she wandered forward, looking about curiously. It was not dark as she had expected. Oddly, it was decorated in shades of blue and green and it wasn't until she recognized a painting of Jiann and a younger Jareth staring from the wall above the mantle that she realized these really were his rooms.

He still hadn't moved and she looked at him to catch a bemused expression on his face.

"What?" she asked, startled.

"How did you find me?" he asked curiously.

"I asked,"she admitted.

His right eyebrow rose sharply and she began to wonder what rule she had broken this time.

"What?" her tone was exasperated.

He grinned.

She began to clue in."Oh for gods sake. My reflexes have tried to jump you at least three times in the last week. Do you honestly think people don't think we are sleeping together?"

A smile flickered and disappeared."Sleeping, my love? Nothing so harmless, I assure you. However that is not quite what you have announced to the world."

"What did I do?" she asked warily, her earlier euphoria draining away.

"These are my private quarters,"Jareth pointed out.

"So?"

Jareth grinned again, eyes gleaming.

"You look too damn much like your mother, you know that?" she pointed out.

"Thank-you," he said."However, back to the issue at hand. I am a member of the Royal Family, ergo; my quarters are located in the Family Wing of the palace."

"And..." she gritted out, resisting the urge to whack him. Or take that smile off his face in another much more physical way. She eyed the bed behind him with interest, then gave herself a mental smack.

Jareth shrugged expansively,"Why nothing my love. Just that by asking directions you announced to all that you felt you had the right to come here. And since I have not tossed you out the nearest window..."

She stared at him appalled.

He snickered and leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs casually,"Would you like a June wedding?' he asked politely.

She blinked, then shook herself,"Never mind that. I'm a dragon,"she announced with a cheerful grin.

He blinked.

"You never told me," she resisted the urge to dance and settled for spinning in place, knowing she looked slightly manic. She did not care. After days, weeks -hell, years- of feeling trapped by circumstance, this was pretty damn cool.

"You did not know?"

She glared,"How could I have known?"

He blinked, then nodded,"Good point. My apologies. How did you find out?"

She grinned again,"Jiann told me."

The eyebrow went up again,"And does the knowledge please you?"

"Are you insane?" she demanded.

His lazy smile caused her to catch her breath.

"I am glad, then." he said.

It was strange. An hour ago, she was certain she hated him, and yet he was the first one she had wanted to share her joy with. She had not even questioned the impulse that had sent her speeding off to find him. Now, looking at him smiling at her, feeling the carnal impulses racing through her body, she acknowledged that very little of that reaction had anything to do with dragon reflex.

Whatever the dreams might have started, it had clearly become something else.

Maybe it was time to put dreams away.

She eyed him hesitantly, and watched as his smile faded to wariness. Before she could decide how to phrase what she wanted to ask, he slowly picked up something from the table in front of him and stood. Whatever was in his palm gleamed with a hint of gold, and she could not read his expression as he looked at it. Then his hand closed, hiding it, and he looked at her, mismatched eyes oddly blank.

"I wish you to return Above, Sarah."

She narrowed her eyes.

Jareth waved his open hand, drawing her eyes to the ringless state of his fingers. She had planned to give him her ring, but in spite of the fact that both Jiann and the High King swore she had passed all the tests-and had a Chalice embedded with seven amber gems to prove it- a coat of arms had never appeared. Jareth's grandfather thought it had something to do with the fact she had sworn to wear Jareth's arms before she passed the test. The Champion oath was a magic all its own and it was possible that by swearing it, she had made Jareth's ring her own.

That oath alone told her he wasn't sending her away forever.

"For how long?" she asked suspiciously.

Jareth shrugged. "As long as you wish. As long as you need. Take the time to say good-bye to your world." He slanted a cautious look in her direction. "I am not unaware of what the Goblin Kingdom will demand of you. I cannot regret that the land chose to act on its own, nor that you were the one chosen, but I can grant you the respect you deserve for the oath you swore. Make no mistake. You are my Champion first, beyond all other oaths you might swear to me. That is not a gift I will sully with impatience."

She stared at him, for the first time feeling the gulf in their ages.

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," she admitted quietly.

Jareth met her eyes gravely, tilting his head,"Then we will discover it together, as all oathsworn must do."

She felt something click into place. Some understanding beyond what she had just started to comprehend during their recent journey. This was hers. He was hers, in a way more permanent than anything other than death. Whatever else they might - or might not -become, this could not be altered or forsaken. She could not damage it by reaching for more, and it could not be taken away. Not by anything or anybody. Nor would he cheapen it by trying to bribe her to stay.

He did not need to.

And he had known that all along.

No one could threaten this. Not Jiann, not his grandfather, not Leann or some fictional future wife. Not even Saren, she realized suddenly, and the last piece settled into place. Why the magic had worn Jareth's face as he tested her. She could hurt him, but she was also the only one who could foreswear herself. She was his strength and his weakness. Beyond even the plans the land had made for her, she was the one who could bring him down. Not through treachery, but because he could not guard against her. Not if he trusted her the way he must.

"Christ, Jareth," she muttered, appalled," What the hell did you think you were doing?"

No wonder this oath was rare.

The risk he had taken. She took a shaky breath and shook her head. On the other hand, perhaps to him it had been worth it. Not only because she was a child of fire. If her oath said he found her worthy to swear it, his ring told the world she found him worthy enough to accept it from him. Thinking back, there had been a rock solid confidence in him these last few days that had not been there the night of the Champion selection. She had noticed it, but had simply written it off as her own lack of knowledge of his character, or the experiences of the Trials. If it was her, if she could do this for him, with all she knew now of the fight he had been waging against the land crying in his heart, then...

...perhaps she did not regret being the one the land had chosen, either.

While she had been having her epiphany, he had been moving on in topics. The uncertainty on his face did not feel like the same issue.

"Sarah..."he started to say, then stopped when she met his eyes curiously.

Silently he laid the item in his hand on the table in front of her. She reached a hesitant hand toward it, pausing when the land shifted uneasily. It muttered unhappily to itself, but did nothing further to interfere. Given that reaction, she considered the ring in her hand with some foreboding.

"It is a Consort Ring," Jareth said hesitantly.

"And...?" she asked suspiciously.

His eyes flickered, but oddly enough did not turn gold.

"When you return...if you choose to wear the Goblin Crown,"he said slowly,"I would not have you feel you must..."he stopped, looking uncertain."Years ago, my mother was asked to consider a political alliance with a neighboring kingdom. Blood, not marriage."He read the confusion in her face."A child,"he explained.

"She was with your father at the time?" Sarah guessed.

Jareth nodded. "Mortals married all the time for political reasons, especially among my father's caste. She thought he would understand. She had no objections to the alliance. The man was pleasant enough and the child would have healed a breach several centuries old. She thought at first he felt threatened by the alliance and reassured him it was a blood alliance only, not a marriage."

Sarah winced, Jareth's bewilderment telling her more about Sidhe culture than a dozen history books. Nor did she have to wonder how Jareth's father must have reacted.

Jareth's eyes grew shadowed," He told her he would have nothing to do with the child and when she told him it was her decision, he left. Even when another was chosen for the alliance, he did not come back." He looked at her cautiously, then nodded at the ring," I would not have you feel you must make the same choice."

She looked at the ring blankly," Are you asking me if I'll agree to a political alliance?"

Jareth looked confused for a moment, then sighed and rubbed at his forehead," Sarah, the Goblin Crown is a political alliance. But there is no law that demands the children you bear be mine unless I demand it. That ring acknowledges that I do not. Should you choose another; I will raise the child as my own. It will inherit as though it were mine. In law, it will be mine, shared with you and your consort. You will not be forced to choose between your consort and your duty to the crown. Do you understand?"

She stood silent, her mind blank as she tried to sort through everything he had just told her. She stared at the ring in her hand. She suspected the normal purpose was to forge just the sort of blood alliance that had ruined his mother's relationship with his father.

Jareth was giving her permission to bring back a human lover.

For a moment she wondered why he would bother to marry her under those circumstances, then remembered what she was becoming. Dragon. The only living child of fire the Sidhe possessed. If her children inherited the ability, she could see the advantages of a child of fire in line for the Goblin Throne. She might not know much about court politics, but the only thing she could see Jareth losing politically would be the blood connection to the Sidhe High Court. Given what had happened last week, she was not sure that mattered any more.

From the unhappy murmur of the land, it was not as sanguine about the plan as Jareth appeared to be. Oddly, she believed him. He would not resent any child she had by another. That came through from the land - and she could see the truth in his eyes. Her first reaction was hurt, that he could contemplate her relationship with another man so easily. Then she remembered what he had said about his mother. Jiann had seen no conflict between sleeping with one man for political purposes and loving another.

Sarah eyed Jareth thoughtfully, his mother's suggestion that Sarah let him please her suddenly rearranging itself in a different light. He was not human. Why did she keep expecting him to act like it? Was this why she had felt so little in his mind after the binding? Was it possible he had felt nothing for the simple fact that the act itself meant nothing to him?

The thought was disturbing, and in a way, more alien than anything else about him.

The Sidhe were too sensual not to feel desire. Her glimpses of the Court backed up that theory. It was her human instincts, however, that equated sex with love - even though any high school girl knew that was not always true. But, Sarah thought slowly, human beings pair-bonded through sex.

Maybe the Sidhe did not.

Sex alone was a weak foundation for a relationship lasting forty or fifty years. Sidhe lived millennia. What had Jiann said? That the fact her dragon had accepted him had given him hope. Hope for what? It occurred to Sarah that perhaps what Jiann had actually been describing trust, something that would be far more valuable to a being whose friendships spanned centuries and more. She had been upset at how shameless her dragon self was with Jareth, but maybe that had more to do with the fact that when all was said and done, Sarah was human. And humans thought about sex. A lot.

Although baring her throat to his teeth was about as pure an example of trust as it could get.

Who knew how dragons pair-bonded?

For the first time, she had no idea how to react, what to do next. She wanted to find Jiann and ask her a million questions that boiled down to just one. How did she keep from screwing this up? Jareth was here now, waiting for a response and he might not mind if his heir was fathered by someone else, but the enormity of the trust he had just handed her was staggering. There were men who would pursue her just for the position. If she chose a Sidhe, Jareth would need to deal with any political allegiances that might create. All because he respected what he was asking her to give up - and what it might cost her to do so.

She couldn't decide if he was a fool or the bravest man she had ever met.

She weighed the ring in her hand, torn with indecision. What was she saying if she kept the ring? That she intended to hunt for a lover and father for her children, obviously. But what was she saying if she gave it back? It was an extraordinary gift of trust. Probably more than she had the experience to understand. Whether he was in love with her, it was a pure act of love and generosity she could not - would not - refuse. Not if such a rejection could be interpreted as a rejection of him.

How did the Sidhe do it, she wondered?

How did they find love amidst glamour and illusion? How did they know what was real? She weighed the ring again and sighed softly. This was real. She might not know who Jareth truly was. She was still too confused over the dreams from the land, the dreams from Saren, and her own fantasies. She did not know where any of them ended and she began. She did not know if the man she thought she knew was even real. But the man who had given her this ring...

She thought it would not be too difficult to love him.

So...perhaps that was the answer. It was a risk. But she was Fire was she not? Sarah could not resist a smile. Jareth was watching her warily and she watched his shoulders relax slightly as he caught her smile. Was it her imagination or did his mouth tighten? It occurred her that he might not mind raising a child not his own, but he might mind very much the fact she did not find him acceptable enough to father them. So...that was her answer then.

Stepping forward she reached forward and he let her take his left hand without protest. He tensed when she brought the hand holding the ring forward. His gloved fingers flexed slightly, forming a cup and as a grim expression settled into his eyes she realized he thought she was giving it back. Well, in a way, she was.

The ring slipped over the middle finger of his left hand.

He might have mistaken her understanding of the ring, but he could not misunderstand the symbolism of choosing the same finger that bore a Champion ring on her own hand. His face was expressionless, but in spite of the fact the ring was snugged securely against black leather, his fingers curled protectively. She let out a careful breath.

He did not react when she reached to touch her fingers to the spiky ends of his hair, but when she pulled back after brushing her lips across the hollow in his throat, his eyes were bemused. For one moment she regretted that something she considered an act of love was nothing more than friendship for him. It occurred to her, however, to turn that thought around. She could not swear she loved him, but did that cheapen the fact it would please her to please him?

He did not react when she pushed him backward toward the bed, but his eyes had regained their wary look.

"Sarah, your body will need time to adjust to the magic,"he told her carefully."It is unlikely you will conceive for years."

Eying the man whose image had driven her nuts over the last decade, she smiled and peered up at him through her lashes with a look she hoped was universal.

"Practice makes perfect," she murmured.

He blinked, then he smiled a slow lazy smile before throwing his head back and laughing with delight.

And really, who ever said that wasn't a good way to begin?


End file.
